


One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

by ImaMePanda



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Age Regression/De-Aging, Big Brother Boyle, Conspiracy Theories, Corporal Punishment, Ezra is a little shit, Father Figure Chris, Gen, In later chapters - Freeform, Insecurity, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Sexual Spanking, Papa Bear Josiah, Papa Holt, Papa Kevin, Prompt Fic, Protective Older Brothers, Secret Organizations, Spanking, Team Dynamics, Team Fluff, Team as Family, Teen Angst, Teenage Amy, Teenage Ezra, Teenage Gina, Teenage Jake, Teenage Rebellion, Teenage Rosa, Though I was totally nervous about writing him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2018-10-25 05:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10758123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaMePanda/pseuds/ImaMePanda
Summary: When his cover is blown Ezra learns that the most dangerous weapon the enemy has is not guns.  De-aging fic. Based off prompt on Spanking-World Livejournal-someone is de-aged into a very rebellious teenager who can't help projecting their insecurities everywhere, will contain spanking in later chapters.  Now a crossover with Brooklyn 99's third season(sort of), soon to include NCIS and White Collar :)





	1. Chapter 1

“Chris, you guys need to get to Ezra _now._ ” 

The overly calm, _falsely_ calm tone of the team's medic, a sure sign that something was about to go very wrong, coming through the com had Chris visibly bristling in front of Buck, snapping back, “What the hell do you think we're doing?”, into the comm. The sounds of booted feet running down the hallway made it clear to Nathan and JD, observing the chaos around the building from the control center they had taken over, that they'd sped up their pace anyway.

“Place is a damn maze, Nate, and this floor ain't as cleared out as we were led to believe,” Buck turned quickly as a noise came from behind him, firing at a man who was hanging upside down halfway out of the ceiling, tile shoved aside, hitting his shoulder and sending him crashing to the ground. “They're crawling around like damned rats.” The man on the floor made a motion for his weapon, and Buck shot him again, neatly between the eyes this time. Chris had paused, covering Buck, but the second the other man was clear he turned and started running again, Buck on his heels.

“Oh God, Nathan what are they doing to him?”

JD's voice was plain terror-stricken, and another burst of adrenaline flowed through Buck, pushing him on even faster. Nathan's response of, “I don't know what they're injecting him with, JD, I'm sorry, but I don't,” the medic's voice rapidly losing the calm he'd been hanging onto, had Chris, at the door that was between them and Ezra now, smashing the butt of his gun into the handle. Buck was pretty sure that wasn't going to do a damn bit of good, the doors were the kind that slid in and out, you could use the handle to slide it open and shut when it was unlocked, but they locked electronically. So far JD had only been having minimal luck in getting them to open quickly, each section's doors controlled by a different program, some much harder to crack than others. The panicked way both the kid and Doc were half-yelling into their mikes now, mixed with the occasional gruff demand from Josiah, clearing another section of the building with Vin, to know what the hell was going on, wasn't exactly getting the job done.

“JD, is there anything I can do on this panel to get us in there quicker?” He asked, moving over to a small electronic screen in the wall by the door.

“Yeah, looks like this one takes a fingerprint scan to unlock, but I think I've got it cracked almost. When I tell you to stick your pointer finger on the little circle,” Then, without losing a second on whatever he was doing, Buck was sure, JD's voice lowered, confiding, “Buck, they injected him with something and left him, he's twisting around like you'd think his bones would be breaking and _screaming._ ” Buck swallowed down bile, wishing the kid hadn't told him that, and about two seconds away from joining Chris, who was now trying to pry the door open manually. “Put your finger on the circle.” Buck did, sagging in relief for a split second when the door wooshed open, Chris running through the opening to keep from falling, Buck following after, casting one eye back over his shoulder to make sure there were no surprises, before he turned his attention forward, expecting to see Ezra in distress. He was not expecting to see an almost empty room, it's only occupant a boy of about sixteen, passed out cold in the middle of it.

“Where's Ezra?” Chris barked, even as he took a protective stance next to the boy, motioning Buck to come over and take his place, then moving to case the room. God, were these people experimenting on kids?

“That's Ezra!” JD was almost shouting into his mike, “Right there, they did something to make him look like that!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Buck snapped, relieved as hell when he knelt down by the unconscious kid to check him that he had a steady pulse, but a little terrified that his teammate just seemed to have disappeared without a trace. Chris, done checking the room for company or any surprises stalked over, looking down at the boy on the floor, frowning as he took in the, Buck had to admit, familiar features. Younger, softer and with a scattering of freckles, but definitely familiar.

It was damned impossible. Maybe Ezra's cover had been blown long before they realized and they'd...kidnapped some kid that looked like him, and...hell, he didn't know, but people didn't age backwards!

“It really is, guys.” Nathan sounded far too calm again, whatever this was had knocked him completely for a loop. He'd keep himself on the top of his game until this was over and they were all safe though, Buck knew they could count on that. “We were watching, they...” The false calm broke for just a moment, outrage and revulsion clear in the medic's voice, “the _bastards_ held him down and started injecting him with something and his body just started twisting and changing. It should be impossible, completely impossible, but obviously it isn't.”

“He just started screaming and screaming...He was screaming for all of us, and we couldn't do nothing but watch.” JD's voice broke on the last word, and there was a muffled staticky sound near his mike a second later, probably Nathan's hand landing on his shoulder. Josiah could be heard praying quietly in the background, along with the occasional muffled thump of his fist hitting someone else's flesh.

“Ezra?” Buck watched in disbelief as Chris knelt down on the other side of the kid, hand moving to check his temperature, and then smoothing back his hair, “Nate, should we move him?”

“I don't know, he shouldn't have any spine or brain injuries, but who knows what all that did to him. I wouldn't be surprised if he goes into shock, make sure he's warm enough. See if you can get him to respond to you.”

“Okay,” Buck said, “Guys, this isn't funny. This can't be Ezra, and we have to find him!” The explosive expert didn't understand what the hell was wrong with his teammates, Chris could glare at him all he wanted. Yeah, the kid looked kind of like the southern pain-in-the-ass, but like he'd said, people didn't just suddenly become half their age. “Why don't we radio in on the mainline for medical, secure the area and go do our jobs? This is ridiculous, this place still needs to be cleared out, one of our teammates could be hurt, and we're just sitting around playing babysitter! I-”

“Buck?” It was a very soft, very confused, very distressed voice, and Buck froze for a second, before his eyes tracked down to wide open, unfocused emerald green eyes, and fuck, either Ezra had had a kid he hadn't told them about, or the garbage the others were spouting was true. Buck was also pretty sure he had a concussion from the look of those eyes. “You want to leave me Buck?” Buck's mouth about dropped as those wide eyes started to fill with tears. He'd never seen Ezra cry when he was sober, and had only seem him do it drunk twice, and combine how much of a heel he felt with the fact that Ezra at least looked like a kid, and the next thing Buck knew he was scooping him up, pulling the limp body into his arms.

“'Course not, just wanting to get you out of here is all. Taking them idiots with the feebies too long to give us the all clear, and we want Nate to get a good look at you.” Buck swallowed hard as Ezra clung to him as best he could, panic rising in his voice. 

“Please don't leave me here, please.” Buck's own panicked gaze met Chris's as he tried to murmur reassuringly to the man-teenager?-in his arms and Chris moved forward, adding the weight of his own hand against Ezra's back.

“ _Never._ I don't leave my men behind, Standish.” Ezra turned in Buck's arm, reaching out for Chris, who, to Buck's surprise and relief, took him without a second thought. Strange as it might seem when thinking of the hard man in black, Chris was the entire team's security blanket. If Chris told them they were alright, that it was just fine, they believed him. And not just because the man tended to snap if they asked again. “I gotcha.” Ezra's whole body seemed to relax, and then he was asleep, and Buck didn't know if that was a good thing or not, but Chris was using his shoulder to stand while keeping his grip on the boy, and surely the most important thing was getting him away from the people who had done this.

God, what if he kept getting younger? Buck was pretty sure he'd read a children's book like that when he was a kid, some science project gone wrong had someone getting younger and younger, until eventually they were just...gone. He swallowed hard.

“Buck!” He jerked his head up, surprised to see that Chris was at the exit of the room giving him a narrow-eyed look of concern, then twisting his head in a move motion when he decided Buck was fine. Chris waited until Buck was on his feet then turned to leave the room, Buck hurrying after him, still reeling.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Five hours later Ezra had a decidedly different attitude then he'd had in the lab, and even though Buck figured he was at least partially entitled to it, he had to admit it was getting awfully tiresome. JD was quietly sniggering at Ezra's tantrum, and Buck smacked him on the head, a bit harder than he usually did, “Quit your laughing.” The kid gave him a wounded look and he raised an eyebrow, “Think ya'd like being laughed at if it were you? Hoss's scared, JD.” JD darted his eyes back to Ezra, frowned, then looked at the floor. Good. Buck patted his shoulder. He knew JD was both still shook up at what had happened and amazed at seeing one of his “big brothers” younger than him and acting like it, but that didn't mean he wasn't gonna call him on his shit when he needed it.

“This is ludicrous! Ah am a grown man, whatever Ah may look like at the moment, and Ah do not need supervision! There is no reason Ah cannot return to mah own home! Ah pay the rent, it's mah right! In fact, Ah am going to do so, whether you like it or not!” Then, to prove how adult he was he stomped his foot. Okay, Buck was definitely not going to laugh, but he had to admit the flabbergasted look on Nathan's face was kind of funny.

He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not that Chris was still dealing with Travis, trying to convince him the whole of Team Seven hadn't lost their minds. Buck wasn't sure how Chris would react to this, but he had a feeling it wouldn't be fun for Ezra. On the other hand, if Chris had been here he highly doubted Ezra would have dared to throw a fit in the first place.

Still, Buck would rather have Ezra throwing a fit than the panic attack he'd had when he first came around. Josiah'd had to hold him and get Ezra to try and time his breathing to his, Nathan coaching the older man on what to do, and Chris had shoved the rest of them out of the room, snapping that he doubted Ezra would appreciate an audience-only to turn around and go right back in himself.

Then the little idiot had tried to _apologize_ for it later, coming out of the room with his face neutral and his body tense, curled in on itself, tone quiet and tight, still his voice, but higher, and defeated enough it had broken Buck's heart. So no, the tantrum wasn't okay-and if Ezra actually threw that chart at Nathan and Nathan didn't put a stop to it, Buck would-but it was still better then earlier. 

“Ezra, for all we know whatever they gave you could make you sick next, or who knows what. You should probably be in the hospital for observation, the only reason you aren't-” Buck winced as Ezra drew himself up, stung by what Nathan had said for some reason.

“Because Ah am now a freak of nature, and Ah'd probably wind up as some government test study? Yah think Ah don't know that? Next thing Ah know Ah'll be sprouting antlers or turning green! Ah just want to go home, Nathan!” The last sentence was more of a wail than a shout, not like the ones before it, Ezra's face starting to crumple for just a split second before he forced it back to angry, snarling, “None of you have any right to dictate otherwise!”, and flinging the clipboard straight at Nathan's head. Nathan ducked, hands flying up automatically to block the chart, but he needn't have, as it was snatched neatly out of the air.

Aw shit. Ezra was in for it now.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Nathan was still ducked down as Chris, duster swirling, turned to face Ezra, crossing his arms with the clipboard hanging from one hand, staring hard at the young man who took a hasty step back. Without taking his eyes off Ezra, voice like steel, he asked, “Nathan, you alright?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Nathan straightened up, the scowl that had been on his face for Ezra fading as he saw how scared his teammate looked. “Really, Chris.”

“Take a break. See where Vin and Josiah are on dinner, and clothes for Ezra.” Nathan nodded, fighting the urge to repeat what he'd told Chris earlier-that for all Ezra still had all his memories and skills, the emotional bonds and personality of his thirty-two year old self, from what he could tell at least, his brain structure and hormonal balance were those of the sixteen year old boy he appeared to be.

In effect, Ezra had all the emotional issues and insecurities of his adult self, with the emotional and rational capabilities of a teenager. Or at least, that was what Nathan had theorized. As he'd told them all, it wasn't likely to be pretty.

A theory which Ezra's temper tantrum had definitely lent some credence to, Nathan thought a bit sourly, a hand moving to rub tiredly at his face. He'd just turned to leave the room when Chris tossed the clipboard to the side and took two steps forward, grabbing Ezra firmly by the upper arm, and ignoring him trying to jerk his arm free, turned him and swatted the boy sharply with his other hand.

“Ow!”

“Chris!”

“Pard, what the hell?”

“Holy crap!”

Nathan stepped forward, seeing Buck doing the same from across the room, all thoughts of leaving gone, “You don't get to hit him, Chris, I don't care if he did throw something at me.”

“I didn't hit him, I swatted him, it's not the same thing at all. Not the first time I've wanted to do that to to one of you, and he deserved it. That clipboard is metal and heavy, he could have actually hurt you.” Chris had let go of Ezra's arm by now, and had apparently decided to tune the rest of them out after that, turning back to the mini-undercover agent, face stern, but Nathan had to admit, not nearly as severe as it would have been if Standish had still been an adult, saying, “You know better than that, and I expect better from you. Understand?” Yeah, so definitely different than if his teammate had been an adult.

Ezra stared at Chris, the medic figuring he was surprised at the unexpectedly short and quiet dressing down, before stumbling over himself to get out a, “Yes, sah.”, at the man's raised eyebrow.

“Good.” Chris clasped Ezra on the shoulder as he said it, Ezra's face as blank as he could make it, but he'd known him long enough now he could read not just surprise...but relief? Nathan would have thought he'd be angry, even resentful, after that, but the way Chris had handled things seemed to have calmed him down.

Maybe, Nathan thought guiltily, it had had nothing to do with that, and everything to do with the fact that the adults around him had been letting him spin entirely out of control without actually doing anything about it. He'd known neither Chris or Josiah would put up with the tantrum, but trying to talk things out with Ezra had just made everything worse.

Probably, when Ezra had started getting upset he should have just refused to talk about his living situation, said they would discuss it later. Should have said he wasn't sure what the plan was when Ezra had asked, but he didn't want to lie to him, and-“Nathan, I thought you were taking a break and getting updates for me?” Chris's order was a bit pointed, and while Nathan knew the man wasn't actually upset with him, just coping with this impossible situation the best he could, he still moved pretty damn quick towards the hallway, sinking down onto a waiting bench. Nathan took a moment to just breath, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. This was insane.

God, what if something else did happen to Ezra? He couldn't imagine anyone actually turning green or growing antlers outside of the X-Men, but he wouldn't have been able to imagine anyone aging backwards, let alone so drastically, before this. Except for the mild concussion that was fading faster than it really should have, that he could only assume was the result of his skull and gray matter literally shrinking, Ezra appeared to be a perfectly healthy sixteen year old boy. But Nathan didn't trust that. He didn't trust that one bit, and Chris didn't seem to understand, that, yes, he'd had a couple years of medical school before life had wound up pushing that dream in the toilet and he'd become a medic, and then an ATF agent, but he _wasn't_ a doctor. Ordinarily, the last few years at least, Nathan didn't regret that, had moved past that.

Right now he would have given anything for those extra years of schooling, forget the degree, he wanted the  _knowledge._ He wanted to know enough to be  _sure.  Sure_ that Ezra's organs wouldn't suddenly go into failure, that his heart wouldn't stop from the immense physical stress that had to have been put on it. Every test he'd ran in the lab they'd all but hi-jacked (He owed Jackie and Owen from forensics, “I'm sorry my boss is terrifying and kicked you out of your own lab while I helped” coffees. Although, they  _had_ been out of there in the two hours he'd promised them) had shown that there were no problems, and Nathan wanted to believe that but it didn't make any  _sense._

Part of him knew that no doctor would have any idea how to deal with this any better than he would, but that wasn't exactly comforting. Chris had put down his foot on taking Ezra to the hospital unless something went wrong, and Nathan couldn't really blame him. What were they supposed to say-“He was twenty-eight this morning, please fix it? It's just, he's difficult enough when he's  _not_ going through puberty.” 

They'd be locked up in the psych ward, and Ezra would wind up with Child Services. Or worse, back with his mother.

He had no idea what had been given to Ezra. The group of-mad scientists? They weren't ordinary drug producers by any stretch-had cleared the lab of almost everything before Ezra had ever been held there. Nothing had been left of any use, and as it was they didn't even know for sure if whatever he had been given had been produced in that lab or even in the facility. No idea if it was permanent, or reversible, or if it would wear off on it's own, or whether reversing it if they did have a way could hurt him. There could be long term effects that didn't show up for years, even decades. The rapid mutations his cells should have undergone for such a transformation to be possible was like something out of an oncologist's nightmare. Or he could wind up like Dolly the sheep, where his cells aged faster than they should have, or _anything._

It had been one of the most terrible things he'd ever seen, and Nathan had been to war. A human body wasn't supposed to contort like that, human lungs weren't supposed to be able to make sounds like _that_.

He'd screamed for them at first, going through the line in a few different orders, screamed for any of them to help him _please,_ and Nathan could do nothing but stand there and watch, and then Ezra hadn't been able to produce any intelligible sounds, just panicked, desperate _noises_ that he didn't think he would ever get out of his head.

There was no way Ezra should have survived that. The fact that he had, let alone done so unscathed, should be impossible. Nathan was more grateful than he'd realized he could be that he had. But it wouldn't surprise him at all if that were to change at any moment.

If it happened because of something he could have caught and didn't, Nathan would never forgive himself.

“Nathan? What are you doing out here, brother?” Josiah's tone was a touch concerned, and he carried with him the smell of Chinese food, making Nathan's stomach rumble.

Without looking up or opening his eyes, he grumbled, “Ezra threw a clipboard at my head, so I'm taking a break.” A snicker that could only be Vin's hit his ears and he dragged his eyes open to glare at him, noting that the profiler looking more amused than he appreciated as well.

“Did he hit ya?”

Nathan shook his head, “No, Chris appeared and caught it.”

Vin winced, “Poor Ezra.” Nathan nodded, still not quite believing what Chris had done in response.

Josiah shifting the bags of take out in his hands so that they were all held in one giant paw, “I'm assuming Chris didn't actually kill him?”

“Nope.” He wasn't going to go into details and embarrass Ezra. Josiah's empty hand was held out for Nathan to grab and for a long moment he just stared at it.

“C'mon, let's get in there before the food gets cold.” Heaving a sigh, Nathan reached out his hand and let Josiah pull him to his feet, following tiredly after the man as he headed back into Team Seven's office.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“I come bearing gifts!” Josiah announced, setting the food down in the middle of the conference table, “Come and get it before Vin eats it all.”

“Hey!” Vin protested setting his own bags down on the counter by the door, “I ain't that bad.”

“Yes, you are.” said JD, coming over and joining Josiah in pulling the containers out of the bags, lining them up in two rows on the table, Josiah smiling at him in thanks. He noticed Ezra heading to the bags of clothes on the counter instead of towards the table and called out to him.

“Leave those 'til later, son, it's time to eat.” Ezra huffed, muttering something under his breath that sounded rather like 'Ah'm not your son', which stung a little, Ezra hadn't done that in quite a while. Still, he moved obediently, if sulkily, towards the table, so Josiah nodded at him in approval. “We've got wonton soup, broccoli beef, spring rolls, all your favorites.”

“Thank you.” He looked a bit embarrassed now, and Josiah noticed he sat down next to where he was standing, making sure to claim the seat next to the boy. Ezra immediately grabbed an entire container of wonton soup, positioning it in front of him, and then started filling his plate with broccoli beef and fried rice.

“Hey, you can't take half the wonton soup, fork some of that over,” Buck said, mouth already half-full of chow mein. Ezra made a face that could only be described as a moue of disgust, Josiah assumed at Buck's lack of table manners, and then made a show of looking over the length of the table.

“Ah do not, Mr. Wilmington, see any receptacles on this table that one could portion the soup into, and as Ah have no desire to eat from the same container as one who masticates with their mouth open, Ah shall maintain mah claim on the soup.” The sarcastic tone was rather more biting than normal, but Buck just grinned.

“That your way a sayin' we need some bowls?”

“Ah, hell.” Josiah muttered, “I knew there was something I forgot.” Chris paused in pulling out his chair, turning back to the counter and grabbing a stack of good sized disposable cups, deposited them in the middle of the table before taking his seat.

“Those 'receptacles' work for you?” Ezra eyed the rather flimsy plastic cups dubiously, but then, to Josiah's surprise, grinned and reached for a cup.

“Ah suppose, Mistah Larabee, that they will have to.” Hmm. That was starting to concern him. While Ezra 'mistered' Chris more than the rest of them, he hadn't called him anything but since he'd woken up. In fact, while the gambler ordinarily alternated between the use of their given and surnames pretty regularly, he'd hardly been using first names for any of them. Cup of soup poured, the container was passed to Buck, who jokingly acted like he _was_ going to drink right out of it, getting pegged in the face with a napkin by JD for his trouble and tossing it back, only to miss and have the napkin land on Chris's plate, in-between his fork and the piece of chicken he was about to sink it into. He looked up and just stared at Buck, who chuckled a bit sheepishly.

“Uh, I'll just get that out of your way there, pard.” Seeing Buck's hand reaching towards his plate, Chris scowled and hastily moved the napkin himself.

“Keep your fingers outta my food, who knows where the hell they've been.”

“Is the worry not more _whom_ they've been in?” Ezra's words were soft and spoken more to his plate than to the room, and if it had been anyone but him Josiah might have believed the obvious pretense that he hadn't meant to speak out loud, but it wasn't. The small, satisfied smile that crawled across his face as Buck started spluttering and the rest of the table started laughing, JD hanging half off his chair beside Ezra and even Chris cracking a broad grin, would have given it away anyway.

“Hey, I keep myself clean!” Buck was not doing a very good job of sounding offended, shoulders shaking as he spoke, “I wash before and after any recreational activities with the ladies, thank you very much.”

Ezra looked up at Buck, face deadpan, then switched his gaze to a JD who was just managing to pull himself upright, “Your water bill must be atrocious.”

Through what were now outright giggles JD managed to get out, “You have no idea.”, Buck mock scowling between the two of them.

Chuckling hard himself, pleased that Ezra was not just joining in banter, but starting it, and imagining the unusual amount of crudeness for him was probably him assuring himself of his right to do so without censor, Josiah clapped him on the back in appreciation. “I didn't think Bucklin could blush anymore, but look, I think he's turning a little red.”

“That, preacher, is an outright lie.”

Vin leaned back in his chair so he was balancing on two legs, Nathan automatically scowling at the sight, craning his head around behind Buck, who turned his own head back bemusedly. “Junior what the heck are you doing?”

Directing his answer to the group at large instead of to Buck, Vin drawled, “Ol' Bucklin blushes, jus' as much as anybody, only most a the red goes to his neck an' the back a his ears. Ya turned 'im red alright, Ez.” The comment and approving nod that went along with it had Ezra looking rather smug, and, returning Vin's nod, he turned back to his dinner and picked up his cup of wonton soup, not surprising Josiah, who had heard the boy's stomach give out a low growl a few moments before, taking a long gulp.

That was when Ezra for the second time in one day, yet again through no fault of his own, nearly gave the other six members of Team Seven a heart attack. A strange look came over his face as he sat the cup down, his hand staying in mid-air above it for a long second and then straying towards his throat as he unsuccessfully tried to swallow, eyes growing panicked, Nathan realizing what was going on and shouting, “He's choking!” at the same time as Josiah shot to his feet. Neither of them beat JD, who had Ezra up and in the proper position for the Heimlich before Nathan was halfway around the table. The chunk of wonton that hit Josiah's shoe a few terrifying moments later was nearly the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, only beaten out by the sight of Ezra drawing in a breath as he sagged in JD's arms, the other boy moving to lean against the table so he could take Ezra's weight more easily.

“You're okay. I've got you. I've got you.” Josiah was sure there had been days where his emotions had undergone more rapid shifts than this, but he couldn't remember when. The fear from seconds ago was rapidly being beaten out by an almost overwhelming mixture of relief and pride as JD calmed Ezra down, Nathan letting him keep a hold of him as he checked to make sure the obstruction was entirely gone and Ezra was breathing normally. JD and him slowly helped Ezra back into his seat, Nathan turning to the cluster of men that had formed around them, even Vin who didn't like being crowded even among the seven was close enough to peer worriedly around Josiah, not seeming to notice that he was being hemmed in by Buck behind him, “Ezra's just fine, JD did exactly what he should've, ain't nothing to worry about, but the last thing he needs is everybody hovering over him, not giving him any room to breath. Ya'll know better, c'mon, give him some air.” He shooed them back to their seats determinedly, though he couldn't stop the hair ruffles and pats on the back being distributed to JD, Josiah the only really happy with this arrangement as it let him slip into his seat next to Ezra.

He observed him quietly, wishing desperately that they had gotten to him before he'd been treated like a damned guinea pig. Ezra was pale and still clearly a bit dazed by what had happened, one more terrible thing in a whole day of them, and far too much for anyone. Josiah was debating whether or not to start a conversation when Ezra said in a mournful voice, almost too quiet to hear, “Oh...mah spring roll.” Josiah followed his eyes to the floor, and bit back a curse. His plate must have gotten knocked in the commotion, and his spring roll had wound up on the floor and smashed under someone's shoe, and since Josiah had grabbed the last one out of the bag and already eaten it, he knew there weren't anymore. He went to scan the table again, fully intending to commandeer any uneaten spring rolls he saw, and let himself curse this time, if only in his head, when he saw that the cup of soup had tipped over, and while he doubted Ezra had wanted to finish it after that, a good portion had spilled onto the rest of his meal.

“We can fix you another plate, Ezra, there's plenty of food.” Josiah lifted a hand to pat at his shoulder and Ezra let out an audible sniff, the sympathy too much for him to handle, suddenly pushing back from the table and rushing out of the room, Josiah following swiftly after. He was aware of Chris getting up and following behind him, and of his barked command to the rest of the team to stay put, but he didn't pay him any mind. Ezra was where he had expected to find him, in the bathroom, splashing water on his face, doing his best to act like he didn't have tears repeatedly pooling in his eyes and running down his cheeks.

“Ah am _fine_ , Mistah Sanchez.”

“No, Ezra, you're not, and you don't have to be.” Josiah leaned against the wall beside the sinks, not wanting to crowd him. Chris was even farther back, not blocking the doorway, but standing to the far side of it.

“Hell Standish, with the day you've had, not a one of us would be fine.”

“Ah appreciate the sentiment, Mistah Larabee, truly-”

“When have you ever known me to bother with sentiment, Ezra? It's the truth.” Chris had straightened up, and caught Ezra's eyes in his mirrored reflection, the boy ducking his head from the intensity after a moment, eyes sliding closed. A few deep, increasingly shaky, breaths later the first sob broke out of him, and then another, Josiah taking the few steps forward needed to wrap him up in his arms.

“ _A-h'm sorr-y.._.” The words were hardly understandable around the sobs that were slowly ratcheting up and up, Josiah just able to make them out.

“Hush son, don't be sorry. You aren't doing anything to be sorry for.”

“ _Alwa-ys,”_ he took a deep ragged breath, struggling to calm down enough to force his words out, _“such a...bur-den.”_

“Like hell you are.” Chris's voice was softer than his words implied, but still unyielding, his hand moving to lay on the bottom of Ezra's neck, just above his shoulders. Josiah hadn't even noticed him crossing the small room to them. “You aren't a burden to any one of us, not now and not ever, and I don't want to hear you say it again.” Ezra shook his head into Josiah's shoulder, it unclear whether he was agreeing or disagreeing with Chris's statement.

“He's right, Ezra. You are a valuable, much wanted, and much loved member of this team-of our family. Nothing changes that. Not this or anything else.” Ezra's head shook again, this time Josiah sure it was a negation, and he wrapped his arms tighter around the boy and started to rock slightly from side to side, doing his best to move slowly enough he didn't dislodge Chris's hand. Ezra just kept crying, not any harder than he had been, but he wasn't calming either. Josiah's eyes rose from the top of Ezra's head to meet Chris's steady gaze, and felt himself reassured almost against his will-there was the same worry Josiah was sure was reflected in his own, but also a solid confidence, a belief that they would survive this that helped restore Josiah's own. “It's alright, son, you take just as long as you need, we aren't going anywhere...you're alright...we're right here...”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Ezra sat on the couch in the ranch's living room and tried to smile as he pulled the last of two polo shirts out of their box, the discarded bags the rest of the clothing had been in laying at his feet. Vin and Josiah had clearly gone to some effort to get things in a fancier, preppier, style than the average teenager would prefer, polos and several button-ups in the bright, solid colors he favored, a sweater, along with slacks and jeans, pajamas and underwear, socks and the like. It wasn't that he didn't like them, he did, they were far better than the oversized things he'd been wearing, and since Ezra had been slightly worried that they would just grab the first things they saw off the shelf he was somewhat relieved. It was just that they made things seem so permanent, made it clear that this wasn't some terrible nightmare he would wake up from, that he was stuck like this, at least for the time being. “You like 'em? We made sure t' stay away from any stores that had 'mart' in the name.” Vin was trying to act casual, eyes mostly on the TV, but the sound was muted, and he'd turned slightly in the armchair he was sprawled in as Ezra had been examining the clothes, until he could see him without moving his head.

At least Vin had a _reason_ to be looking at him. After that lamentable incident at dinner it had seemed that not a single one of his teammates was capable of doing much but repeatedly staring at him. Every time he'd glanced in any direction eyes would be fixed on him. To put it bluntly, it had been a little disturbing, or at least a little unsettling. Mr. Larabee had seemed to realize this, he had refused to let the entire team accompany them to his home, anyway.

His hand sliding over the top of a red button-up that, while definitely not silk, was quite silky in texture, rubbing the fabric between his fingers for a second, Ezra nodded, “Ah like them quite a lot, Mr. Tannah, thank you.” He grinned, trying to tease, “Ah do wondah, if your fashion sense is this good, why we are treated to the strange combinations of clothing you call outfits?”

Vin gave a little half grin back at him, “Just 'cause I know what ya like don't mean I like it. Wouldn't feel natural, dressed all fancy-smancy.” Ezra fought a frown, not sure why he was stung at the implication that Vin didn't like the way he dressed, when he'd just teasingly told the man the same thing, and Vin was just returning it in kind. He scooped up the shirt and a pair of black pants, sliding the pack of underwear in-between them, and pushed himself to his feet, intending to change in the bathroom. He knew it was ludicrous, Mr. Tanner had purchased the underwear for him and had, therefore, definitely seen them, but Ezra felt a sense of that same awkwardness that had surrounded such things when he was-actually a teenager? A teenager the first time? He didn't know. Mr. Larabee's voice from behind startled him, which should not have happened. Vin could occasionally sneak up on him, but, despite Buck's complaints that Chris was like 'a damned cat', Ezra could always sense him.

“It's near eleven o'clock, no point in changing into anything but pajamas.” A glance at the clock confirmed it was after ten-thirty, and he knew Mr. Larabee was right, that it would be a waste of an outfit to put it on when he would be going to sleep, attempting it anyway, in an hour or two. Still, it hinted at the idea of being told when to get ready for bed, and Ezra had to suppress the urge to remind Chris he was only _technically_ a teenager and didn't need a bedtime of any sort.

Ezra had no intention of giving him any ideas. He was still doing his foremost to deal with the fact that Chris had _swatted_ him like a recalcitrant toddler. He was, mortifyingly enough, fairly certain he'd deserved it, but that didn't mean that being treated like a child didn't sting.

Either way, he was quite capable of getting himself to bed in enough time to be up and ready for work, something he had been doing for years, without needing any assistance in the matter. “Ezra, did you hear me?” Ezra looked up as he answered and saw a hint of genuine concern on Chris's face under his usual stoic exterior, and knew that the man was at least mostly asking him the question in seriousness, not chiding him for an answer, but the words were already half out of his mouth, snapped hard and sharp, almost unbidden.

“Ah do _not_ need to be told when to change into mah night attire, and if Ah want to try on mah new clothes Ah see _no_ reason why ah should not be able to.” Ezra was vaguely aware that he was possibly being melodramatic, and that Chris doubtlessly did not deserve the glare he was leveling at him, but he also felt embarrassed and hemmed in, not sure how or if he wanted to back down, the way Chris's eyes narrowed slightly as he sucked in a slow breath making him want to squirm.

“I never said you did Ezra, and I didn't mean you couldn't try on your clothes. Just that it's late, and you don't want to waste an outfit.” Mister Larabee was clearly trying to be patient, but while he was used to Ezra's usual sarcasm and even his occasional not-quite-but-almost-insubordinate actions in the field, it seemed like Ezra alternating between insecurity and defiance was something he wasn't entirely sure how to deal with.

Since  _Ezra_ wasn't entirely sure how to deal with it either, feeling his embarrassment sink into his bones as how unnecessary his outburst had been fully registered, he supposed he couldn't blame Mr. Larabee for not knowing so either, though Ezra rather wished he did, it would make things much simpler. After a long moment where Chris just kept  _looking_ at him, Ezra nodded, “Ah suppose Ah...misunderstood.” 

“Guess you did.” Chris shifted his gaze away after a moment, going around Ezra towards the couch with a pat on his shoulder. Rather than continuing on his trek towards the bathroom, Ezra found himself twisting around so he could keep observing Chris. Instead of sitting down the blond started picking up the pile of clothing bags that had been at Ezra's feet, folding and flattening them one by one, making a stack of them on the coffee table. A jolt of panic spread through Ezra as he watched. He hadn't _meant_ to leave a mess in the living room for Mr. Larabee to pick up. Ezra had promised himself he'd not allow himself to become an inconvenience to the team, that he would not become more of a encumbrance than this situation necessitated, but it seemed like everything he did, no matter what his intentions, dashed that promise to the ground and stomped on it.

“Ah can do that, Mistah Larabee, there is no need for you to trouble yourself, really.”

“Ain't a problem, Ezra.” The man flashed him a quick smile, already done with the bags and now putting together the boxes his shirts had been in.

“But Ah can do it! Ah was going to tidy the room, Ah swear!” Both Mister Tanner and Mister Larabee looked at him in shock, Mister Larabee straightening up, and to his horror Ezra realized he'd wrapped his arms around his middle, self-hugging for comfort, something he'd long outgrown by the time he was sixteen, and forced his arms down, straightening and trying to regain his composure.

“Ezra, if I minded picking up the bags I wouldn't have done it. You're not in trouble, nobodies mad at you.” Ezra nodded, trying to formulate some kind of response that wouldn't make his teammates think he'd completely lost it.

"Ah just-Ah'm going to go to bed." He hurried all the way to the guest room Chris had said was his now, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it, not bothering to turn on the light, just trying to control his breathing. Looking down, he realized that he not only had not brought his pajamas, he'd crumpled the red button-up so there was no way it wouldn't be wrinkled in the morning. The pants and pack of boxer-briefs had disappeared somewhere along his journey, and Lord, he didn't know what was _wrong_ with him. He knew better than to lose control like that, and what a fool they must both think he was, rushing away. Ezra took another deep breath and moved a few steps to lay the shirt over the back of the chair that stood against the wall, next to the dresser. He did his best to straighten out the wrinkles, and supposed, as all but the worst smoothed away, at least from what he could tell in a room lit only be moonlight, that there were some benefits to synthetic cloth after all. That done he just stood there for a long moment, not sure what to do with himself. The raised voices he could now hear from the living room certainly didn't help, and Ezra supposed miserably that he must somehow be the source of the fight.

He could always go to bed like he'd said he was going to do, and, while he wasn't tired, climbing under the covers and not emerging for about ten years sounded remarkably desirable right now. He hadn't brushed his teeth, but Ezra supposed one night's neglect would not destroy them. Dumping everything but his underwear in the small hamper by the door he climbed onto the bed, sliding under the covers. Mr. Jackson had provided him with a few sleeping pills, saying it was more than likely that Ezra would have trouble sleeping, but he hated the way they made him feel, groggy and like his thoughts were climbing through an ocean of molasses. He lay flat, staring at the ceiling, until there was a knock at his door and he hurriedly pulled the covers all the way over his head, rolling over so he was facing the back wall, closing his eyes, hoping, whichever of them it was, they would go away.

Another knock, a little softer, and the sound of his door being softly pushed open. "Hey Ez, can I come in?" Ezra said nothing, not even opening his eyes, and after a moment he could hear the sound of Vin's stocking feet walking over the carpet towards him, and then him settling at the side of his bed, down towards the end, well away from where Ezra was curled up, the cloth rustling as he shifted. "Look, Larabee told me what he did, _the idiot,"_ the last two words were spoken very quietly, almost under his breath, and Ezra frowned in confusion from under the blankets. What in the world did Vin think Chris had done? "If he scared ya, we don't gotta stay here." Ezra stiffened, his eyes starting to burn against his will. Chris had said he wasn't angry about the bags. He'd told Ezra he would be living here until they found out a way to reverse what had been done to him. "Ezra?"

"Does Ch-Mistah Larabee want me to leave?" Ezra pulled the covers even tighter over him, his breath starting to warm the little cave he'd made for himself, making it uncomfortable. He couldn't go home, and if he'd already worn out his welcome here, how long would it before the entire team was sick of him?

"No. No Ez, of course he don't." Vin shifted up the bed so he was closer, his hand moving to splay over Ezra's back, warm and solid. "That ain't what I meant at all. Chris _wants_ you t' stay. Jus' seemed like ya were scared in the livin' room, an' then he told me...he shouldn'ta hit ya. It ain't right, an' if ya don't wanna stay here everybody, even Chris, will understand." Ezra rolled over to face the sharpshooter, taking the blankets with him, after a moment pulling them down so he could look at Vin seriously, meeting the concerned eyes staring down at him.

"Mistah Tannah? Mistah Larabee did not hit me."

"Ez, he told me. Ya don't-

" _No._ Ah've been hit befah, Vin. When Ah was-befah. Mistah Larabee wouldn't-he wouldn't hurt me. Ah'm not frightened of him." Vin was silent, but Ezra could see in his eyes that his mind was working quickly, and he started talking again, “He was right, ah could have harmed Mr. Jackson. And...” Ezra hesitated, feeling preposterously foolish, “Ordinarily he tells me off at great length when Ah've committed some infraction...it was bettah than being screamed at fah ages, and feeling like-feeling like he'll nevah forgive me,” he shuddered, unable to help it, as a memory of Mr. Larabee tearing into him, fists clenched at his sides, rose in his mind-Ezra had frightened him that day, and he knew it, had known it at the time, and he had been nothing but truthful when he told Vin he wasn't afraid of Chris, but days like that it was sometimes hard to keep memories of people he _had_ been frightened of away. People who had been charged with raising him, if only temporarily, but had certainly never done anything as parental as swat him for throwing a tantrum.

Lord, if he'd dared to throw anything at any of his relative's special little darlings Ezra would likely have more than one gold tooth.

Certainly, none of them had told him they expected better, almost seeming to want him to live down to their expectations.

“Are ya sure?” Vin looked skeptical, almost confused. 

“Ah don't want to leave.”

Vin studied him again for a long moment, and finally he nodded, just once, “Alright. I ain't sure I like it, but it's yer choice, not mine. If ya change yer mind I'll be on the pull-out in the den, ya jus' come find me, alright?”

“Alright, Mistah Tannah.” While he thought it was completely superfluous and somewhat embarrassing that Vin was being so protective, Ezra could imagine himself being even worse in similar circumstances, and it was kind of...nice.

“Ez, are ya mad at me?” Blinking at this apparent non-sequitur, Ezra shook his head.

“No, Mistah Tannah, not at all.” Starting to worry now that he'd been rude, or otherwise offended Vin without realizing it, Ezra racked his brain, but could think of nothing.

“Jus', ya only called me Vin about twice all day. Most a the time ya only call me Mr. to get my attention, or t' start a conversation, unless ye're pissed.”

Oh. Ezra _had_ realized he was doing that several hours ago, but he couldn't seem to stop. He wasn't sure how to explain it to Vin, since he was hardly clear on the matter himself. Ezra shrugged, then had to work hard to keep from wincing in horror, because he wasn't actually sixteen, and he _didn't_ avoid giving answers by shrugging-only patently, he _did._ “Ah'm a bit...discombobulated... _you_ haven't done anything to offend me, Mi-Vin.” The use off his first name had Vin smiling one of his soft smiles at him.

“Good, I was gettin' kinda worried fer a minute there.” He reached over and squeezed Ezra's shoulder, leaving his hand resting there, “Ya come and get me if ya need me, ya hear? Even jus' t' talk.”

Ezra nodded, swallowing hard before he could trust himself to answer-he knew teenagers were emotional, but this was becoming ludicrous-“Ah will. Vin?”

“Yeah, Ezra?”

Ezra wanted to say lots of things-'I'm petrified. Nothing is right, and some things even taste different. What if I start forgetting things? What if I get sick?-I heard Nathan and Chris talking, what if I get cancer?' Cousin Marcus, who'd been kind to him, had taught him to play chess, had died of cancer and it had been-awful. Too awful to put into words.

Most important of all-was he still on the team? If he stayed like this? And if not what would happen to him?

What if they got tired of him?

But he couldn't say any of that so he just said, “Goodnight.” Vin gave him a look that made it clear he knew that wasn't what he'd been planning to say, but let it go, squeezing his shoulder one more time before pulling his hand back.

“Night, Ez.” Vin pushed himself up and padded back across the carpet, pulling the door closed behind him. Ezra slowly straightened out the messy cocoon he'd made out of his blankets, fluffing up his pillow. After a moment he rolled over and pulled open the drawer on the nightstand where he'd stored his phone, wallet, and various other items when he'd gotten to the ranch, rooting around for the bottle with the sleeping pills. Groggy, molasses filled thoughts were better than the ones trying to crowd their way into his head. Finally locating it, he grabbed the bottle and the phone he could see was flashing, opening the bottle and dry swallowing a pill, then tossed it back in the drawer, sliding the drawer shut before he laid back on the bed and began pursuing his phone. Seeing the number of texts, no doubt goodnight messages from the rest of the team, brought a smile to his face.

The picture Buck sent of him drawing on JD's face, the computer genius passed out on their couch with a game controller in his hand, was especially appreciated, though the fact that Buck found it amusing to write 'fart' on someone's forehead at the age of forty was probably cause for concern, Ezra's message back letting him know this in no uncertain terms. Goodnights returned, and fighting a yawn, Ezra was about to turn the phone off, when a new message alert appeared on his screen. Thinking it was likely Buck, having vandalized another portion of John Daniel's skin, Ezra opened it to see an invitation to a late night high-stakes poker game at a little club he'd discovered that was actually farther out of town than the ranch, and therefore not that far away. He bit his lip, longing to go-he'd been undercover for nearly a month before his cover was blown, and while the circumstances of this case had allowed him to check in with Chris on a regular basis, not as deep as he often went, that still left no time for poker games, and he missed both the atmosphere, the tension and excitement that went along with that level of gambling, and the game itself. Still, even if he hadn't just downed a powerful sleeping pill he could already feel working, and Mr. Larabee wouldn't slaughter him for even attempting it, the invitation had been issued to a grown man. If Ezra were to show up looking as he did now they would likely assume he was his own younger brother. He regretfully shut off the phone and set it on top of the nightstand, before rolling over and burying his face in the pillow, more than ready for sleep to take him.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

“What do you mean Ah'm not going into the office today? Why not?” Ezra's fork clattered to his plate with his words, and he could hear his voice, angry and scared, higher than it had any right to be, almost like he was hearing it on the radio or television, like it didn't belong to him, and he hated that, hated that he couldn't even seem to maintain control over what his voice sounded like. Chris and Vin exchanged a look and Ezra's hands formed into fists on the table. He was right _here_ , they should be discussing the situation with him, not having one of their peculiar eyes only conversations. “Mistah _Larabee?_ ” Chris turned his full attention to him, setting down his coffee cup and looking Ezra in the eye, and he found himself no longer so sure he wanted it when the full intensity of that gaze landed on him.

“Ezra, you just came off an undercover op, an undercover op where you were compromised and attacked. When the hell have I _ever_ let you go into the office the day after something like that?” 

Well, Ezra thought, picking up his fork and stabbing it into his scrambled eggs, he supposed that was true, but on the rare occasions something like that had happened he had generally been in the hospital, or at least confined to a bed with Mr. Jackson hovering nearby. Chris's eyes were still on him, obviously expecting an answer, and stabbing the fork into a particularly fluffy bit of egg extra hard, he mumbled, “Nevah.”

“Exactly. Most of the time you take a week or two of vacation when you get back from an op.” Ezra said nothing in response to this, picking up his toast and taking a bite instead, glaring down at his plate.

“I'm gonna stay an' hang out with ya, Ez. Thought we could take a ride, stretch Peso and Chaucer's legs. An' maybe later we could go by yer place an' get more of yer stuff.” Torn between the obvious appeal of both those ideas and indignation at the implication that he needed a babysitter, Ezra gave a grudging nod, then, seeing what looked like a flash of hurt on Vin's face, hurried to speak.

“Ah'd enjoy that, Vin.” Vin nodded at him, smiling a little, before turning back to his eggs. Ezra stabbed at his eggs a bit more, and then, with Vin busy eating and Chris refilling his coffee at the counter, he tossed a large chunk down to the border collie laying by his feet, before shoving a small forkful in his mouth, and tossing Leo another piece. He didn't care for scrambled eggs. He didn't precisely hate them either, but he never ordered them when they went out to eat, and Josiah never made them for him on team weekends, when he always seemed to make breakfast in the mornings, he'd fry Ezra's, or serve them sunny-side up, anything but scrambled.

Josiah wouldn't have made him eat scrambled eggs, and Ezra would wager he would have taken him into the office as well. Chris was being absurdly overprotective, he was not injured and there was no reason he couldn't go in with the rest of the team, it was just paperwork and wrap-up right now, and following up on anything that might lead them to where the group had fled to. It was most unfair. “You going to eat those eggs or just stab them to death?”

“Ah'm not hungry.”

“Alright.”

“Can ah feed the rest to Leo?”

“You're asking now?” Chris was smiling, and Ezra tried to force a smile back, not liking that Chris had seen him when he'd thought he was being discreet, “Sure, just the eggs, and put it in his bowl.” He nodded, jammed the last bite of toast in his mouth and rose from his seat, chair scraping across the floor behind him. Leo trotted eagerly next to him, knowing that his name plus a human walking towards his food dish always meant something good, and if Ezra hadn't been used to the way he pushed up against the humans he'd claimed legs, demanding attention, and, in this case, the treat he knew was coming, he would have tripped him. “ _Leo_ , be good.” Chris's growl had the dog dancing a step away, only to charge forward again the second Ezra had deposited the food, the entire pile gone within seconds. He followed Ezra over to the dishwasher and when he turned to him and held his empty hands out to indicate there was no more, the dog nuzzled the top of his head into his right hand, clearly perfectly willing to trade treats for attention, and Ezra obliged him, stroking him, and scratching lightly right above his eyes, one of his favorite spots. The idea that the dog wouldn't recognize him, or would be put off by his transformation had been one of his worries on the drive to the ranch last night, and he'd been relieved to see that that clearly wasn't a problem.

He had yet to go out to the horse barn, because if  _Chaucer_ didn't recognize him-well, he wasn't going to think about that.

“Ah'm going to take Leo out into the yard.”

“Sure.” Stopping at the backdoor to pull on his shoes-thankfully, his feet had been at their full size by sixteen, so he could still wear those-and grab Leo's ball off the counter, Ezra slid open the backdoor and went out into the spring air. Wading over the dewy grass until he was far enough away he didn't feel like he still had eyes on him, he pulled back his arm and let the ball fly, chuckling at the water droplets that flew off the grass from the force of Leo's pounding feet as he chased after it. A few long moments later Leo came pounding back, dropping the ball at Ezra's feet before rolling enthusiastically in the wet grass, then jumped to his feet and shook, spraying water and making Ezra take a few steps back from him, “Lord, cease that, you crazy mongrel.” Leo, who only understood his tone, rushed forward and rubbed against the laughing boy's legs, shifting his weight, so that Ezra, who'd been moving back again, slipped and landed on his backside on the ground, Leo immediately washing his face with his tongue. “You sah, are a menace.” Him being a menace did not stop Ezra from wrapping his arms around the dog and leaning his face into his neck, “At least you're still the same. Everything else is different.” The dog leaned into Ezra patiently, and when Ezra pulled his head away a minute later, eyes dry, but red, he nuzzled his nose into his chin, drawing a watery laugh, “Canine mucus, just exactly what Ah needed. Thank you, Leo.”

He pushed his way to his feet and scooped the ball up, tossing it for the eager canine, playing fetch until he heard the sound of footsteps heading across the grass towards him. “Hello, Mistah Larabee.”

“You know you can still call me Chris, right?” He nodded, but didn't say anything else, not sure what else to say. “I'm about to head in to the office, I just wanted to see if you needed anything, and to say goodbye.”

“Tell the others Ah said hello?”

“Of course,” Chris's hand reached out, grabbing Ezra's shoulder and tugging him around to face him properly, “That's part of why you're so upset about not going in, isn't it? You wanted to see the rest of the team.”

“Ah've been away from you all fah a month,” foolish, traitorous tears were building in his eyes again, and Ezra wiped at them angrily, feeling like he'd turned into a leaky sieve. He hated this, he _loathed_ this situation with every fiber of his being, _despised_ feeling so out of control.

“C'mere, Ezra,” Chris reached out for him, clearly intending to comfort him like the small child he was acting like and it was just too much, he wasn't a baby and he _didn't_ need to be coddled.

“No!” He shoved Chris's hands away, smacked them hard, really, and took several large steps backwards when his boss's eyes first went wide with surprise and then narrowed in displeasure. “Ah am not an infant!”

“Nobody said you were, but you might wanna act less like one if you don't want us to start!” Ezra felt like he'd been slapped, and choking back a sob, turned to try and run away, barely hearing Chris's heartfelt, “Shit, Ezra, I'm sorry!” He couldn't help but feel the arms that closed around him before he'd gotten more than a dozen paces away, Chris not seeming to notice or care about the wild punches and kicks Ezra was throwing at him as he pulled him into his chest and wrapped his arms around the teenager in a bear hug, “I'm sorry, Ez, I'm sorry, I never should have said that.”

“But you did say it! Let me go!”

“I can't Ezra, not when you're this upset.” Chris was rocking him now, and Ezra's hits slowly got weaker, his arms falling to his side and then somehow his hands were gripping the front of Chris's shirt, his face pressed into the hollow where his neck and shoulder met. “I shouldn't have lost my temper with you, shouldn't have gotten mad, it's my fault, buddy, not yours.”

“Ah hate it when you yell.”

“I know. Vin told me. I'm sorry.” They stood like that until the embarrassment outweighed the comfort for Ezra and he pulled away, turning his head down to wipe his eyes. “Do you want me to invite the others out tonight? Team movie night?” Ezra nodded without looking up, Chris's hand moving to squeeze lightly at the nape of his neck, “We're going to figure this out. I promise.” Ezra knew it was foolish, knew Chris had no way to guarantee this dilemma would ever be resolved, but he believed him anyway.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

“Hey Ez, I'm gonna hop in the shower and get ready for our ride, okay?” Vin's head peaked around the corner into the guestroom, Ezra looking up from where he'd been leafing through a book on horse training he'd pulled off the bookcase in the den.

“Alright, Ah'll gather everything Ah'll need as well.” Vin grinned and thumped his hand lightly on the doorjamb before heading off down the hall. Putting the book down on the bed, glancing at the page number so he could find his place later, Ezra wondered if his riding boots would fit properly, glad that he stored them here. A ride was exactly what he needed.

As long as Chaucer recognized him. Shaking his head to rid it of that excessively morbid thought, Ezra wondered if there were things for sandwiches in the fridge, and what kind Vin would prefer if he made some to bring along.

Climbing to his feet, he picked his phone up off the nightstand, disconnecting it from his charger and placing it in his pocket. He was heading down the hall when it buzzed in his pocket, and thinking it was Nathan, asking him how he was feeling _again_ , or maybe JD, who after discovering Buck's 'artwork' the night before, and that he'd sent evidence to Ezra, had sent him a great photo of Buck's face when he took his first bite of cereal, the man having heavily doused it in the salt JD had filled their sugar bowl with, he pulled it out of his pocket. 

No, it was, Carl from the club, telling him that it was too bad he'd missed last night's game, but if he was interested there was another one starting in an hour. Ezra bit his lip and moved to look at himself in the mirror in the entrance way. While he obviously didn't look twenty-eight, he thought he could pass for older than sixteen, eighteen at least, maybe twenty. The jade green button-up and the dark colored jeans he'd chosen after his first outfit had wound up covered in dew and dog hair was nice enough for the club, and, Ezra reached up and lifted Chris's riding hat off its hook, resisting the urge to look around for Chris to pop out of nowhere and skin him alive, that was the final touch. Settling it on his head, he nodded, that added a few years.

Of course, it was all just speculative, there was no way he could go...Ezra's eyes lingered on Vin's jeep keys resting on the table under the coat and hat hooks, and before he could remind himself of all the reasons it was a spectacularly horrendous idea, and that whichever of his teammates got their hands on him first would completely eviscerate him, Ezra was out the door, jeep keys jingling in his hand, fingers tapping out a text message that just might get him in to Carl.

_*Hello Mr. Brook, while I am unable to make it to the festivities myself, my younger  
brother is in town and could use the experience. Could I send him in my stead?*_

He sat in the car, keys already in the ignition, but not starting it yet, because if Carl declined his request he'd be crucifying himself for no reason. Ezra was on the verge of getting out, though it probably hadn't even been a full minute since he'd sent the message, when his phone buzzed.

_*Hi Standish, how ya doing? How much younger are we talking? Most important-  
does he have money?*_

_*Legal, barely, but legal. He is_ _**my** _ _ brother.* _

_*Alright, send him down, but don't get mad if the boys clean the kid out.*_

_ *As I said, he is  _ _**my** _ _ brother. I don't think that will be a problem. He will _

_arrive shortly.*_

Taking a deep breath, Ezra pulled on his seatbelt, turned the key in the ignition and shifted into gear, starting down the long gravel driveway.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Vin walked down the hallway, dressed and ready to go except for the towel he was rubbing on his still drying hair. The door to Ezra's room was open so he poked his head in to see if the kid was in there, and kept on walking when he wasn't, figuring he'd find him along the way. Maybe in the kitchen, he'd hardly eaten a thing at breakfast, really just his toast. A trip through the house didn't reveal him, though, and since Leo was contentedly chewing on a rawhide under the coffee table in the living room, Ezra wasn't out playing with him again. Vin frowned, feeling a bit of a twist in his gut, then relaxed after a moment, thinking that he had probably just finally made his way out to the barn to see Chaucer. That would be it. It had been surprising when Ezra hadn't made a beeline for his horse the second he'd been out of the truck, he always went to see Chaucer as soon as he politely could when he came to the ranch, and if something upset him, that's where you would usually find him. Instead he'd jumped out of the ram and headed straight into the house, and Chris and him had exchanged a look, wondering what was wrong there.

Ezra's almost joyful exclamation of, “Look, Leo knows who Ah am!” when the dog had happily greeted his favorite beside Chris, had explained that, but Vin doubted he had anything to worry about. If his scent was still familiar enough for Leo to recognize him the horse that was practically a human would have no problems. A little scary really, how smart that horse was. Vin swore he'd seen him shake his head yes or no to questions Ez asked him more than once. He was making his second trek through the living room when something off about the view out the big picture window at the front of the room caught his attention. In almost confusion, a frown slowly making its way across his face, Vin left his original path to trek across to the window.

His jeep wasn't in the driveway.

He knew he'd parked it there. Vin was sure he'd parked next to Chris too, not behind him, so the man would have no reason to have moved it. But it definitely wasn't there.

His mind rapidly connecting the missing Ezra to the missing jeep Vin grit his teeth. He'd stolen his jeep!

Ezra was a dead man walking-well, no, he was a dead boy walking, and suddenly Chris's method of dealing with him didn't seem quite as bad as it had. Heading out the front door, Vin looked around, hoping that maybe, Ezra had just...driven it down the driveway, or something. But it was no good, he was nowhere and neither was the jeep.

If he got pulled over his license would be no good, and they'd _told_ him that, that was why they hadn't let him get the jag and drive it out. Ezra would wind up in jail, and while A.D Travis was working on putting together a fake identity for him, it wasn't established yet. 

That and Nathan still wasn't sure about possible side effects, was still worried Ezra might have a seizure or black out, and now he'd just taken off god knew where, with no one to help him if something went wrong.

Vin still couldn't believe he'd  _stolen his jeep_ . 

Taking a deep breath, Vin pulled out his phone and dialed Chris's number, it only ringing twice before the familiar, “Larabee,” came over the line.

Vin meant to explain that Ezra was gone calmly, instead what came out of his mouth was a growled, “That little shit stole my jeep.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about, he stole your jeep? Ezra's gone? You don't know where he is?” Chris's voice was shocked with the first what, but it had changed to a bark by the middle of the second sentence.

“It ain't my fault! I got outta the shower and Ez's gone, and so's my jeep. Don't know where in the hell he went, or how I'm gonna find him.” Vin ran a hand through his hair, tugging as it snagged on a tangle.

“Didn't say it was your fault, and we'll all find him,” Chris's voice was still a bark, “What the hell does he think he's doing?” Vin could hear a commotion in the background, and then Chris saying, “ _Yes,_ dammit, I'll put it on speaker phone.” Next thing he heard was Josiah's voice, worried, but thoughtful,

“What he's doing, whether he knows it or not, is testing his limits. Whether he's testing you, Vin, or Chris, or all of us, I don't know.”

“That's all well and good, Josiah, but we can deal with that after we find his behind,” Nathan said, sounded even more worried than Josiah, tinged with a strong hint of exasperation, “I don't like the idea of him driving, his reflexes are different, his muscle memory is gone, and he's just not used to being a gangly teenager anymore.”

“That don't make me feel any better,” Vin complained, pacing back and forth in the gravel driveway, dust kicking up around his feet, “Ya all know that jeep ain't the easiest ride in the world.”

“We'll find him and his behind just fine, boys. And then I'm gonna blister it for him.” Chris sounded deadly serious, and there was an awkward pause following his words. As mad as he was, Vin wanted to protest, but Ezra had all but told him he'd rather be swatted than yelled at.

“Are you sure, stud?” Buck had his coaxing voice on, the one he generally used either when trying to talk Chris out of doing something stupid, a fairly rare event, or to try and keep Chris from killing him when he'd done something stupid, a much more common one, “You're gonna tan Ezra? Our teammate? What about when he gets back to normal? How do you think he'll deal with that?”

“What matters is now Buck, and right now he's a sixteen year old kid who needs to know I'll pull him back into line if he steps out of it.”

“Well, I agree with you in principle Chris, I'm not sure I can agree with your method, at least not while Ezra is so unsettled.”

“Hell Josiah, you gotta start how you'll finish, you know that. Besides,” a guilty note crept into Chris's voice, “He told Vin that when I yell at him he feels like he'll never be forgiven, so ripping his head off like I usually do when one of you does something stupid is out.”

“And why was he telling Vin that? _Did_ you rip his head off for something?” Nathan sounded more suspicious than actually accusing but Vin spoke up, hastily-possibly, he admitted, if only in his own mind, because of the angry words he'd spewed at Chris the night before-correcting him.

“Nah, it weren't like that at all, Doc. Ez kinda panicked jus' 'cause Chris picked up some bags for him, and I thought it was 'cause he was scared of him 'cause Chris smacked him for throwing that clipboard at you, but he said he wasn't.”

“Chris did _what?_ ” Josiah sounded half-pissed, half-disbelieving, and Vin was confused for a second, before he realized he'd left out a few details and opened his mouth, but Chris beat him to the explanation, sounding more than a little frustrated.

“On the ass, Josiah, I swatted him on the ass.” Josiah subsided with a few grumbles, that Vin was pretty sure were at least half directed at him for scaring him like that, and then muttered an apology to Chris.

“Hey guys?” Vin had been wondering if JD was there or not. “I was thinking about what 'Siah said about Ezra testing us, and how the whole point of that kinda testing is to get caught, and so I looked, and I think your right Josiah, his friend finder on his phone is still on. I didn't even have to hack anything to find out where he is.”

“Hell,” Buck muttered, “All of us old men jawing while the kid here gets down to business. Good job, JD.”

“Yep, good job, JD, now where the hell is he at?” Chris's voice was tense, and JD rattled off the address immediately, Josiah swearing when he heard it.

“Read that again, JD.” He did, and Josiah said the lord's name in vain, Vin's eyebrows raising almost to his hairline-he wasn't religious at all, but Josiah was, and he wasn't sure he'd ever heard the older man do that before. What the hell kind of a place had Ezra gotten himself off to? It wasn't far away though, that was one good thing.

“That young man _promised_ me he wouldn't go back there. To do it now, when he's so vulnerable...I take it back Chris, if you don't tan his hide, I will.”

“Chris, can I take the Chevy? He ain't too far away.” Chris had been working on that old truck for years, and Vin knew that he babied it as much as his horse, but for something like this he wouldn't say no, probably only hadn't told Vin to go get it because he hadn't thought that far yet.

“Of course, you know where the keys are. I'm heading that way, call when you get him. Josiah, I want to hear this story, so you're with me.” All but sprinting into the house as Chris talked, Vin quickly found the keys in Chris's desk in the den and hurried out towards the shop, phone still pressed to his ear as he walked over the grassy yard to the hard packed dirt path that led from the driveway to the metal building-he wanted to hear this story too, and know what he could be walking into.

“Does this mean we aren't having a team movie night?” JD's voice was faintly plaintive, and Vin felt his lips tugging up as he unlocked the padlock that held the shop door closed and pushed it up, having to jump a little to get the rolling door locked into place. JD might not be the youngest right now, but he was still damn young.

“Hell, I don't know JD, I'll let you guys know later, alright?” Chris's voice was exasperated, and JD must have reacted in some way that Vin couldn't see, because then he said, still a little gruff, “That was good thinking, with the phone. Good job. Josiah, let's go.” There was silence for awhile, and Vin put his cell phone on speaker now, setting it on the passenger seat and sliding on the seatbelt Chris had installed. 1953 Chevy's didn't come standard with them, but Chris had said he was taking no chances, with the kind of luck they seemed to have. He was backing out of the shop when Chris's voice came crackling through his speaker, “So what kind of trouble did Ezra get himself into at this place, and why didn't I hear about it before?”

“It's a gambling hall, and about a year and a half ago he got himself more than a little in over his head there. He cleaned out part of a biker gang and they decided he was cheating and dragged him outside, took his shoes, socks, coat, cell-phone and wallet, at the end of November.” There was an angry, heavy sigh then, “If I hadn't been more worried about getting him home and warm, I would've gone back-”

“Like hell.” Vin shook his head at Chris's growl-Josiah forgot sometimes, that when Chris was at his most protective he didn't much care that Josiah was older than him, and telling the man he'd contemplated taking on a biker gang all by himself probably wasn't the smartest thing in the world, not right now. Though, if any of them had a chance at something like that, it _would_ be Josiah, even at almost fifty. Going over the address again in his head, Vin paused at the end of the driveway and flipped on his turn signal, pulling out and heading down the road at a fair clip.

“You would have wanted to do the same damn thing, and you know it,” That was true too, but Chris was, and Vin would back this up, best friend or not, more than a little bit hypocritical when it came to the risks he himself took and the ones he was willing to allow his men to take. “The bastards smacked him around a little-he wasn't hurt, pride wounded because there were too many to fight back more than anything. After, they gave him fifty cents and told him to walk to the nearest pay phone-which is a damn bad joke, there aren't any pay phones within miles of that place.” Vin gripped the steering wheel a little tighter at the idea of Ezra walking miles, barefoot and with no coat, in the middle of November when there was snow on the ground, foot pressing down on the gas pedal harder. “Luckily, Ezra is a slick one and managed to get his cell-phone back without them noticing it, and called me once he was far enough away.”

“You should have called me,” Chris snapped, “I would have been closer, and it was goddamn freezing out.”

“Both you and Vin were at that leadership conference that week, Chris, remember? You barely got back in time for Thanksgiving. And without you there I am the closest. Otherwise I would have called you. As for why I didn't tell you when you got back...well, I want him to call me again the next time he's in trouble, instead of a cab, or nobody.” That was pretty hard to argue with and predictably Chris grunted instead, Vin able to picture the sharp, grudging nod that went with it. “Nathan checked him over and I made him promise he'd stay away from there-supposedly he's friendly with the man who owns it, told me if he'd realized what was going on he would have interfered, but how do you not notice something like that?”

“Friendly don't always mean friend.”

“Mmm. He's never broken a promise to me before, and I can't say I'm happy about it. ”

“How did Ezra get in in the first place?” Vin asked, “Ain't no way he could pass for twenty-one right now.”

“I got the feeling this was the sort of place that didn't much care.”

“Well, that's just great. That's just exactly the place one of my agents needs to be hanging out.”

Deciding he'd heard everything he needed, and wanting to concentrate on not missing the turn-off for the winding road that would lead to Ezra, Vin drawled out, “I'm gonna hang up guys, call ya when I've got Ez.” Waiting until he was acknowledged with a couple of goodbyes to make sure he'd been heard, Vin reached over without taking his eyes off the road and hit the disconnect button. He'd been pissed and worried before, but now that it appeared Ezra had taken off to a place that was unsafe for  _adult_ Ezra, both those emotions were ratcheting up. He got that this was harder on his friend than any of them could possibly understand, and he'd definitely figured out that Nathan was right over the last day and a half-Ezra was just a sixteen year old kid. He was still Ezra, but he was clearly thinking and feeling like a kid, not just adult Ezra stuck in the body of a kid. 

Josiah had the right of it when he said that Ezra was more than likely testing them, hell, Vin had done the same thing to more than one set of foster parents. Difference was, no one was gonna send Ezra back to social services for screwing up.

Ezra, who'd been so quick to assume Chris had wanted him to leave the night before, probably didn't realize that though. Vin set his jaw, fingers tightening on the steering wheel, wondering how many times Ezra had been moved from home to home, Maude sending him all over half the damn world like he was a package instead of a kid. Well, whatever he thought, that wasn't going to happen this time, no matter how hard he pushed.

He hoped Ezra hadn't had too big of a head start on him. With his long hair it took him longer in the shower than most of the others, and if he'd left right after Vin had talked to him, he would have had twenty minutes at least before he had even started drying off, and since the hot water lasted a lot longer at Chris's than it did at his apartment, his timing was off sometimes, it might have been longer.

Slowing down as he saw his turn-off up ahead, Vin put on his signal, driving up a road that got bumpier as he went and seemed to stop being maintained by any road crews only a couple miles down it. By the end Vin was steering around potholes and ruts, no way for a vehicle to stay on one side of the road, and becoming more relieved that he wasn't seeing his jeep stuck in any of them as he went. When he finally came across the gambling hall, he was surprised to see it wasn't the run down shack he'd been expecting, but a large, clearly old, but well taken care of, concrete building with big windows, all with heavy curtains so he couldn't see inside. If it had sound proofing as well that would make it hard for anything in the parking lot to be noticed. It wasn't anything fancy, but from the evenly paved parking lot, it was clear that the road was being left like that on purpose, to help keep out unwanted visitors. His jeep was in the back of the small lot, near the exit, which since the parking lot was decent sized and only about half full made Vin wonder if Ezra had been thinking he was likely to need a fast exit. He pulled the truck in next to the jeep, and, hopping out, headed towards the front doors casually. Once he stepped inside there was another door with a man standing in front of it, probably not there so much to check ID's but to keep any trouble out.

Vin nodded at him as he walked up, and apparently if you knew how to find it you were welcome because the doorman nodded back, and pushed the door open for him. As he stepped inside he had to grin-this  _would_ be some place Ezra would love, for all he should have known better than to come. Where the outside was simple and business like, the inside was fancy as anything, all decked out like it was some kind of high-class 1920's speakeasy. He let his eyes adjust as they moved around the room, taking in the antique billiard tables, chandeliers, and ornately framed paintings hanging on the wall, and smiled again, though it was grim this time, when he saw Ezra at the back of the room, his side to him, the life of the party, laughing and talking as he played, being cooed over by a couple of pretty older women, closer to his original age than he was now, and clearly enjoying every minute of it-that had  _better_ be a glass of soda in that kid's hand. Not caring much about casual anymore he strode straight towards the gaming table, one of the woman noticing him and pointing him out to Ezra, who slowly looked over, gulping so that it was visible to Vin halfway across the building. Vin kept walking, but crooked a finger at Ezra, who nodded and turned back to his new 'friends' to make his goodbyes. Smart. If he'd tried to argue about staying Vin would have had no problem either starting to chew him out at the table or dragging him away by the scruff of his neck. As it was, Ezra was dragging his feet as he walked towards him so that when Vin reached him he wasn't more than ten or twelve feet away from the table and, smiling weakly, said, “Ah can see yah are upset, Vin, but Ah can explain-”

“Really, Ez? Ya can explain leavin' the house an' property without a word, _stealin'_ my jeep t' do it, and comin' to an underground gamblin' hall? Hell, I'm all ears, go ahead.” He waited, staring hard at him and, after a few moments where Ezra floundered for an answer, the boy hung his head and stared down at his shoes. Voice a little softer, he continued, “That's what I thought. Go on,” he jerked his head towards the exit, “get yer butt out t' the truck.” Ezra slunk around Vin, who turned on his heel and followed closely behind him, not willing to have him out of his sight for a second right now. They were almost out the door when a tall, skinny man in a three piece suit with a large man, about two of Josiah, who had to be his bodyguard, behind him, with his arms crossed across his chest in an imposing manner blocked their way. Hell, what kind of trouble had Ezra gotten himself into now? Without thinking about it Vin took a step forward so he was in between them and the teenager. To his surprise this had the tall man relaxing his shoulders slightly, though the bodyguard's posture didn't change.

“Ezekiel, ya know him?” Ah. This must be Ezra's 'friend'. Vin had to admit, if a little unwillingly, he didn't mind that someone had been keeping an eye on the kid, even if the man should have turned him away at the door.

“Yes, Mistah Brook, this is one of mah oldah brothah's, Vin.” Mr. Brook took in Vin's, tense, protective, stance and Ezra's-or Ezekiel's-slightly slumped shoulders, and suddenly looked amused.

“I see. I'm sorry to have stopped ya, but after an incident last year I try and make sure Mr. Standish-your brother Ezra that is, gets to his car okay, and of course, I'll do the same for any of his family.”

“Incident? Ya talkin' about when my brother got slapped around an' left with no shoes an' no coat in the middle a winter, in yer parkin' lot?” If Vin had thought for one second this guy was likely to start anything he wouldn't of said a word, but for all he didn't think he was a friend any of them would approve of, he was getting the feeling he _was_ Ezra's friend.

The giant moved now, grinning slightly, “Next time they came back, I made sure they regretted it. They don't come around anymore.” Vin found he believed him, and not just because the guy looked like he could bench press a car, and nodded in thanks.

“This probably ain't my place, Mr. Standish,” Vin didn't bother to correct Brook, “and it'll probably piss the other Mr. Standish off, but, since ya seem pretty pissed at the kid, and I'm a big brother myself,” he tossed a smile over his shoulder at his 'bodyguard', “I feel like I should tell ya, Ezra arranged for the kid to come down here. Thought he was a little young myself when he showed up, had my lady keeping an eye on him while he was playing.” And since if Ezra actually _had_ been Ezekiel Standish, little brother to Ezra and Vin, that would have probably have made Vin a heck of a lot less angry at the kid, and a lot more angry at Ezra-that was confusing-he forced himself to relax a little, turning slightly as he raised an inquiring eyebrow at Ezra, who played along perfectly, pausing a moment before reluctantly nodding. Just like a kid who didn't want to tell on his big brother. 

Vin sighed and held one arm out, “C'mere, kid.” He might have been acting the moment before, but the way Ezra plastered himself against his side Vin was sure he just plain needed a hug. He squeezed him, and said quietly, just for Ezra, “ya scared me, I'm glad yer okay.”, tightening his grip when a woeful “Sorry,” hit his ears. He heard the other two men talking quietly, and found himself fighting a smile.

“Reminds me a bit of us, before ya turned into Goliath.”

“Shut-up David, before I put ya in a sling.” If Ezra were still twenty-eight, he might have put in a good word about this place for him with Josiah.

But he wasn't. He was a sixteen year old kid, and he had no business being here. Resigning himself to the fact that he was going to have to be stern at least until Chris got there to take over, he pulled away from the boy and gestured to the now clear exit, the two Brook brothers having stepped back out of their way. Ezra, ever the gentleman, thanked them for their hospitality, stopping at the door as Vin turned to them, “Jus' so ya know, Ezekiel's only sixteen, an' I'd appreciate it if ya wouldn't let him back in here.”

“If ya give me your number I'll call ya if he shows up.” Vin had to fight a grin at the muffled groan from Ezra, rattling off his number once Brook had his phone out. He wasn't surprised, he'd figured Ezra's sorry was more for the fact that what he'd done had scared Vin, gotten him mad at him, than his actions themselves. Saying goodbye, he guided Ezra out to the parking lot with a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back to him and yanking the keys out of his hands as he started towards the Jeep once they were at the back of the parking lot, like he actually thought Vin was going to let him drive home.

“Uhnt-uh, gimme those. Ye're riding home with me in the Chevy, don't even try it.”

Ezra blinked at him in a good attempt at honest confusion, but Vin wasn't buying it for a second, “How will your jeep get back to the ranch?”

“I'll have Chris or Josiah drive me back later t' get it. Don't worry about it, go on, get in the truck.”

Ezra did as he was told without another word, but Vin had seen the way his eyes got slightly wide when he heard Josiah's name. He sent a group text to the rest of the team to let them know that Ezra was safe and sound and about to be on his way back to the ranch, and climbed in himself. About ten minutes later, the only sound until then their breathing and the engine, Vin leaning forward over the steering wheel concentrating on picking the best path to take, glad that he wasn't trying to do this at night, Ezra spoke up, voice quiet and carefully controlled, just as they got back to the regular road. “When you said Chris or Josiah...?” He trailed off, making his anxiousness clear no matter what he sounded like, and Vin hid a sigh, hating that the kid had got himself in this much trouble.

“Siah's comin' back t' the ranch with Chris.”

“Oh.” Ezra's voice was small and Vin reached a hand over, rubbing at his shoulder while he spoke.

“Neither a them's goin' t' kill ya, or hate ya, or nothin' like that, alright? Or any a the rest a us either.”

“Ah broke a promise to Josiah.”

“He mentioned that. I ain't sayin' he's happy, but it ain't the end a the world.” Vin looked over at Ezra, and said quietly, “Didn't seem like it was the first time ya'd broken that promise.”

Ezra shook his head, staring straight out the window, quietly asking after a few long seconds, “Could we possibly keep that between ourselves, Mistah Tannah?” Vin thought for a second before he answered.

“If ya promise when ya get back t' normal t' talk t' Josiah about it before ya go out there again, and at least tell him ye're goin' whether he likes it or not instead of lyin'. It don't seem like that bad a place, but it ain't right to be makin' him think yer keepin' a promise that yer not.”

Looking both relieved and little more guilty than he had, Ezra nodded, “Thank you, Vin.”

“Well, ye're welcome, but don't think I'm any too happy with ya myself. Ya really did scare me, takin' off like that, an' we already told ya ya can't drive until we got you a license that a cop will actually buy-and I gotta feelin' ya jus' lost that privilege. Ya also had no business takin' my jeep, I wouldn't figured I'd have t' worry about leavin' the keys out around ya, but I guess I do. We're almost back t' the ranch, when we get there ya can march yerself to yer bedroom an' sit on yer bed waitin' for Chris.”

“Yes, Vin.” Not sure if he was sending the right message or not, Vin reached over again and laid his hand on Ezra's shoulder, not moving it until they pulled into the driveway.

“Alright, go on, get t' yer room. I'm gonna go park the truck back in the shed, that's where ye're gonna be when I come in, right?” Ezra nodded, sliding out of the cab without a word and hurrying into the house. Vin rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly very tired. Well, the quicker he got the truck put away, the quicker he could check on Ezra.

A few minutes later he trudged in the house and headed down the hall to the 1 st guest room/Ezra's room, knocking on the door frame to let him know he was there before he stepped in. Ezra was sitting on the end of his bed like a statue, his hands clasped primly in his lap like he was someone's maiden aunt and clearly strung tighter than a frog's ass. Not sure what else to say, Vin asked Ezra softly if he was hungry, as it was lunchtime now, and the boy shook his head, looking like the idea of food was making him a little nauseous. “How about a glass a water then?”

“Alright, thank you.” Getting the feeling that Ezra had only said that because he wanted Vin to go away for a little while, he took a minute or so going to get it, Ezra only taking a small sip before turning to set it on his nightstand when he gave it to him. “Would it be alright if Ah read mah book to pass the time?” Vin opened his mouth to tell him it was fine by him, when the sound of tires crunching over gravel could be heard from outside, Leo's excitedly running to the door and barking only confirming that it was Chris.

“Sorry Ez, looks like yer time is up.”

“If he kills me, you get all mah cards and other gaming paraphernalia, Mr. Jackson gets mah record collection, Mr. Sanchez gets mah serious literature, Mr. Wilmington and Mr. Dunne can divide mah comics and pulp literature among themselves, and Ah suppose, despite the fact that he will be the one responsible for mah demise, Mr. Larabee can have mah antique gun collection.” Vin gaped for a second before he realized the double meaning of his own words, and saw the glint of humor in Ezra's eyes, shaking his head with a chuckle.

“I told ya he's not gonna kill ya-but if he does, can I have your comics instead? I saw that Tin-Tin you were trying to hide inside the hand-outs at that last boring ass regulation meeting we had to sit through.” Ezra opened his mouth when they both heard the front door swing open, and the sound of Chris's boots walking inside, and he shut it, straightening and looking steadily towards the doorway.


	6. Chapter 6

Chris strode evenly down the hallway, calmer than he had been now he knew Ezra was home and safe, but decidedly not happy. He'd promised himself he wasn't going to yell, but the brash undercover agent had always had a knack for pushing his buttons. When he got to the open door he walked in and fixed his eyes directly on Ezra, who, to his credit, met his gaze head on instead of looking away, though Chris thought he saw some stubborn defiance lurking in the back of his eyes. Without breaking eye contact he said, “Vin.”, and jerked his head slightly, his sharpshooter getting the message and with a quick nod first to Ezra then to Chris, he edged around Chris and out the doorway. Waiting a moment to make sure Vin wasn't still in earshot, Chris stepped further into the room, crossing his arms across his chest and scowling at the nervous looking, for Ezra anyway, boy sitting on the bed, “You know I realized in the truck on my way home that I may have forgotten to go over a couple of important things, like the rules you _will_ be following-don't worry, we'll talk about those real thoroughly later. That doesn't change the fact that you knew damn well you had no business stealing Vin's jeep and running off to some gambling hall!” Chris realized his voice had raised with his last sentence when Ezra flinched, very slightly, and forced himself to take a deep breath in and out, slowly, before he finished speaking, “We talked about how it could be dangerous for you to drive right now, and you know your license isn't any good-if you'd gotten pulled over you realize you'd probably be in juvy?” Without waiting for an answer he carried on, “I'm gonna let Josiah talk to you about _which_ gambling hall you went to, but I want it clear that you are not allowed to go anywhere minors aren't supposed to be. In fact, you don't just take off without a word to anybody to go _anywhere_.” A frown grew across Ezra's face at that, Chris not surprised he didn't like that, and also not caring much right now. Ezra had made his bed, and he could lie in it. “Now, do you have anything to say for yourself? Maybe explain what the heck you thought you were doing?” 

Ezra shifted slightly on the blue and white comforter, not saying anything for so long Chris was about to start talking again when he blurted out, “Technically, Mistah Larabee, as Ah did not intend to keep Vin's vehicle permanently, Ah do not believe it can be considered larceny.” Chris stared for a moment-out of all the things Ezra could have said, he chose  _that?_ -a sudden urge to laugh hitting him, even though he didn't think any of this was funny. 

“ _Ezra_...you know damn well that's not how GTA works, and it's not like anybody thought you were planning to run the jeep down to a chop shop, anyway.” Ezra's mouth opened again, a glint in his eye, and Chris just _knew_ he was going to say something about no chop shop taking the jeep, and plowed on, not in the mood, “This is about you doing something illegal, that could have been dangerous, and that I'm sure you knew wasn't gonna make anybody happy. That all you wanted to say?” He waited for a response, raising an eyebrow as the silence stretched on, finally receiving a quick nod of the head. Since Ezra didn't have any kind of reasoning to explain what he'd done, at least not that he wanted to share with Chris-which if it was anything else about 'technicalities' was probably a good thing-, he decided to move forward. “I think you understand what you did wrong, but just in case-taking Vin's jeep, driving when you were told not to, leaving without getting permission or telling anybody, going to a club and gambling when right now that's _illegal_ for you to do-so now, we just have to deal with it.” 

Ezra had been looking like he was getting prepared to argue as Chris rattled off his list, but with his last words the boy deflated a little, asking warily, “Deal with it, Mistah Larabee?”

“Yep, Ezra, deal with it. You're in trouble, and you're not getting desk duty this time.” Chris dropped his hands to his side, fighting a sigh. He wasn't looking forward to this. “I'm going to give you a choice.” Josiah had talked him into that, and he hadn't liked it at first, but the profiler said it would probably make Ezra feel safer, and it made sense. “First choice is, you're grounded for two weeks. That means you don't get to go anywhere with me or the other guys, nothing fun, so no movie nights, no rides-you can still exercise Chaucer in the corral-, no TV, no internet.” Ezra was doing his best to not look like that was the worst thing he'd ever heard, but Chris had seen the way his eyes had clouded when he'd said 'no movie nights' and really hoped he picked the second option. And he didn't even know that Buck and JD had been practically fighting over who got to come spend the day with him tomorrow. 

“What is the alternative?”

“Second choice is a tanning. I ain't gonna lie, it won't be pleasant, but when it's over, it's over.” Ezra's mouth dropped open, looking at him in shock, and then, to Chris's surprise, he laughed. “Something funny?” Laughter trailing off, Ezra gazed at Chris quizzically.

“Surely you are in jest?”

With a firm shake of his head, Chris responded, “Surely I am not.” Ezra stared at him for a moment longer, then jerked his gaze down to the floor, the hands resting in his lap slowly tightening into fists. Well, he'd been expecting a fight, would've been worried if Ezra didn't push back at least a little.

“That is an absurd proposal, and an insulting one as well.” His voice was tight and stiff, angry, but a little hurt too, Chris thought, and he shook his head again.

“Don't see what's so absurd about it,” If he'd pulled what Ezra had today as a kid, his old man, hell, or his mom, depending on which one had gotten their hands on him first, wouldn't have given him a choice, that was for sure, and whether Ezra liked it or not, he was sixteen right now, and it wouldn't be doing him any favors to ignore that. Hell, just the fact that he was talking to Chris about this at all proved that, grown-up Ezra would at least have been yelling by now, and Chris wouldn't have been too surprised if he took a swing at him, “and it's not an insult.”

“Ah accepted being treated like a toddler before, because Ah was aware mah behavior was that of one-but for you to actually propose to s-tan me, is taking things too fah Mistah Larabee.”

“You taking Vin's jeep and disappearing like that was taking things too far, Ezra. But like I said, you have a choice, it's up to you.”

“Some choice!” Ezra jumped to his feet, eyes bright, hands still in fists, and Chris stared evenly back, “Ah eithah allow mahself to be humiliated, or to be locked up like a prisonah!”

“I'm not trying to humiliate you Ezra, that's the last thing I want to do, and I'm not going to lock you up like a prisoner, no matter what you choose. You'll still have free reign of the house, the backyard, the barn and corral if you choose the grounding.” That seemed to take some of the wind out of his sails and while he kept glaring, after a minute Ezra sank back down onto the bed. Chris was starting to wish he hadn't listened to Josiah, wasn't sure anymore that giving Ezra a choice had been a good idea. He could just be handling it, be getting it over with, instead of Ezra having to deal with picking.

He watched as Ezra took a deep breath, moving his hands so they were flat on the bed beside him, as he composed himself. Chris had been here before when he'd had to tell Ezra no, something was too risky. Now was when the bargaining would start. “Ah feel as though a third selection of some type should be available-Ah could,” a small shudder of disgust ran over Ezra, giving Chris a good idea of what he was going to suggest, “muck out the stalls for a month, or digitize all the old case files that got lost in the crash-”

Trying not to let any amusement show on his face, Chris cut him off, short and simple, with a, “Nope.” Ezra crossed his arms over his stomach, and Chris frowned slightly. He might not be the team's profiler, but he knew enough about psychology to know that arms crossed over the chest was aggressive, arms over the stomach was defensive. “I gave you your choices, Ezra.”

“What if Ah refuse to make a choice?” Grown-up Ezra would have sounded entirely cocky saying something like that, but teenage Ezra only sounded like he was trying to be. Which made Chris wonder how much of the attitude he got from the southerner ordinarily was just a front.

Didn't mean that now was the time for even a pretend attitude and he narrowed his eyes as he responded, “Then I guess I'd just have to make it for you.” The crossed arms tightened across Ezra's stomach and he huffed dramatically, looking away from Chris to the wall, but said nothing. Chris resolved to wait him out, at least for a couple of minutes, and deciding that looming over him probably wasn't helping anything, moved over to grab the chair that sat beside the dresser, pulling it to where he'd been standing and sinking down into it.

It took nearly the full two minutes, Chris starting to think he was going to have to make the decision for Ezra after all, when he spoke, voice tight, still looking at the wall instead of Chris, “What would you use? And would Ah have to, to divest mah clothing?”

“Just my hand, and no. I don't believe in that.” The tension that eased out of Ezra's shoulders at that made Chris want to track down every low-life Maude had left him with and beat the absolute shit out of them, and glad that even though it was what his own father would have used on him, he hadn't seriously considered using a belt for more than a second or two. He waited again, though not nearly as long this time, and Ezra finally gave a short, jerky nod. “That mean you pick the tanning?” The boy turned his head and glared indignantly at him, Chris strongly getting the feeling that he did not want to actually say it, and supposed he couldn't blame him. “Alright, come here.” Swallowing, and rubbing his hands briefly over the knees of his jeans, Ezra stood up and took two slow, hesitant steps, so that he was standing slightly to the side and in front of the chair. Chris crooked a finger at him, wanting him to come a bit closer, and Ezra scooted forward about two inches. Deciding that would have to be good enough, he leaned forward in the chair and wrapped his fingers around Ezra's wrist, doing his best to make his next words serious and gentle at the same time. “I want it clear, this has nothing to do with trying to humiliate or embarrass you. I'm doing it so next time you think you might want to do something stupid, like steal a car and run off, you remember you've got a good reason not to. And when it's done, it's done, you aren't in trouble anymore. Josiah will still want to talk to you about breaking your promise, but he's just going to talk.” Ezra's mouth started to open, a question in his eyes, but he snapped it shut almost immediately. “What is it?” The thumb and forefinger on his free hand rubbing at his shirt sleeve showing how anxious he was, the teenager said nothing, and Chris bit back a sigh, wishing this were already over with, “Tell me.”

“After,” Ezra swallowed, a blush starting to show in his cheeks, “you will no longah be displeased with me?”

“No, Ez, I won't.” He wasn't really mad at him already, not anymore, though that didn't mean he wasn't going to make damn sure he thought twice before pulling something like this again, “It'll all be over, and you'll be forgiven.” Chris had a cold feeling envelope his gut, worried now Ezra had thought two weeks of grounding meant two weeks of Chris being mad at him, “No matter what you chose, you'd always be forgiven, Ezra. Understand?” Trying to hide eyes that were suddenly shiny Ezra nodded at his feet. Knowing this had been dragged out more than enough, Chris used his hold on his wrist to tug Ezra the rest of the way to his side, pulling him down over his lap, sliding him a bit forward and wrapping one arm around his middle when he was done. Ezra was tense, and as he raised his hand Chris had to remind himself that he could be in juvy right now, or worse, that he'd stolen Vin's jeep and taken off without a word, before he could bring himself to bring his hand down, landing a sharp open handed smack to the middle of one cheek, than a matching wallop on the other, the first eliciting a gasp of surprise from Ezra, nothing from the second. If he responded anything like Chris did as a boy he'd be doing his best to keep his mouth clamped shut, but it wouldn't last. He slapped back and forth, not moving more than a few inches any direction from where he'd landed the first two swats until Ezra started to squirm, then starting to swat all around randomly, some low and some high. A minute later, when one of his agent's hands had moved to clutch at his ankle, but a single sound hadn't left him, Chris started to get worried, thinking that he might be biting his lip, and slowed his hand, asking him, “Are you ever going to steal a car again?”

“What about und- _aH_ ,” Ezra's voice broke a few times as he got his sentence out, rising to a squeak as a swat landed low, almost where butt ended and thigh began, “covah...operati-ons?” 

Glad that he couldn't see his face, because that question had caused a smile to flash across it, Chris unable to suppress it, he responded, “Besides undercover operations, are you ever going to steal a car again?”

“No sah...Ah'm sorry...” Ezra's voice trailed off into a wet sounding little hiccup, and after a second of thought Chris lifted the leg under Ezra's thighs and dropped the one in front a little bit and began peppering the lower curves and tops of his thighs with lighter, quicker swats. It was time to wrap this up, if his hand was stinging this bad, Ezra's backside probably felt like it was on fire. Deciding to keep it simple he only asked him one more question.

“Are you going to disappear on one of us again?”

“No...Ah pro-mise.” The wet hiccup noises turned into small, heart-rending, sobs, and with one last smack, he was done, moving his hand up to rub softly at the small of Ezra's back.

“Alright pard, it's all done. You're okay, Ezra, it's all okay. You did real good, and it's all done.” Chris carried on like that for a minute, just saying comforting nonsense and rubbing gently at Ezra's back, until his sobs had dried up to shaky breathing and he started trying to get up, Chris helping him to his feet and standing with him, pulling him in for a hug when Ezra went to step away. If he was mad at Chris that was fine, he knew he'd been pissed off at his old man more than once for blistering his hide for him, but he'd always gotten a hug, sometimes whether he liked it or not, and it would have felt wrong not to do the same for Ezra. Didn't mean he wasn't relieved when Ezra hugged him back after only a couple of seconds, gingerly at first, and then tighter. When he pulled away a little bit later Chris let him, giving him a few moments as he moved the chair back over to it's spot next to the dresser, hoping it would be quite awhile before he had to use it like that again. A smile tugged at his lips when he turned back to him and saw Ezra tucking a handkerchief into his breast pocket, eyes still red, but dry now. “You want you can rest for awhile in here, or come and hang out.”

Subdued, Ezra murmured, “Ah would like to avail mahself of the washroom, and clean mah face.”

“'Course.” Chris went to put an arm around him to guide him along to the bathroom, not quite ready to leave him alone, but Ezra took a small step back, a self-deprecating smile crossing his face.

“Ah know ah made a fool of mahself just now, but Ah assure you, Ah can still find mah own way to the facilities.”

Chris's face screwed up in confusion, “A fool of yourself? What the hell-”, it hit him suddenly, and Chris shook his head, “Dammit Ezra, of course you cried, I wasn't exactly easy on you. Anybody would have. You didn't make a fool of anything.”

Ezra nodded, his face trying to settle into one of his neutral masks, but Chris could see right through it, could see the skepticism, “Nevertheless, ah would prefer to have a few minutes to mahself to get collected.”

He couldn't really argue with that, so he just nodded. “Alright then. I'll be out in the living room if you need me.” Ezra nodded and walked out of the room, and instead of letting himself sag like he wanted, because that had been a hell of a lot harder than he'd realized, Chris walked out too, going the opposite way down the hall. No one was in the living room, but he could hear chopping noises noises coming from the back, so he headed towards the kitchen, finding Josiah chopping vegetables while a pot of something cheesy bubbled on the range, a pan with onions and garlic sizzling away next to it, the smell making his mouth water a little. “Little early for dinner, ain't it?”

“Late lunch, none of us have eaten yet, and Vin tells me Ezra didn't eat much breakfast either.” That and, Chris knew, that doing something with his hands, whether it was building something, fixing his ancient Subaru, or cooking, calmed him down. “This'll stick to the bones, cheesy vegetable soup-and don't worry I'm going to toss some chicken in, since I know both you and Vin think meat is the main food group.” Josiah smiled slightly as he picked up the cutting board and used the knife to scrape the green peppers on it in with the onions, making Chris shake his head as he used the knife to stir them in. Growing up with missionaries for parents meant Josiah was able to make a meal with pretty much whatever was lying around, and didn't generally bother to use 'unnecessary' utensils-why use a stirring spoon when the knife was already dirty? Nathan had convinced him he had to either chop meat after the vegetables or use a separate cutting board, at least.

“You think you're gonna get Vin to eat vegetable soup? Where's he at?” Chris asked dryly, as Josiah dumped a container of mushrooms on the cutting board and started hacking away at them-after using the knife to stir the pot of soup, wiping the blade on the edge of it so that the excess sauce ran back down into the pot.

“He eats my spaghetti just fine and except for this having cauliflower and a few carrots in it and no tomatoes, the vegetables are the same. I think he's in the barn, said he was going to go for a walk right after you went in to talk to Ezra.” He paused in chopping and looked up at Chris, voice getting quieter, “How'd things go?”

Chris leaned one hip against the counter, then turned so his back was to it, hands shoving their way into his jeans pockets. “Hell, I don't know. I made him cry, Josiah.” He heard the sound of the knife being laid down and Josiah stepping closer to him.

“Ezra will be fine, and he'll know we aren't willing to let him endanger himself like that. You didn't do anything wrong, Chris.”

“Doesn't make it easy.”

“Good. If it was easy to do, you probably shouldn't be doing it.” Chris nodded slightly, seeing the sense in that, and Josiah clapped him on the shoulder and went back to his chopping. “If you're going to be in here anyway, you want to get a loaf of that quick bake bread out of the freezer and stick it in the oven? Just pull the cauliflower out, it should be just about done roasting and they both cook at 350.”

Shoving himself off the counter, Chris moved towards the freezer, asking, “What the hell is quick bake bread?”

“Bread that bakes quickly.” Shooting a look over his shoulder at a chuckling Josiah, because no, he _hadn't_ already figured that out, Chris yanked open the freezer and started looking around, finally finding a couple of what looked to be partially baked loafs of bread, and grabbed the one claiming to be garlic sourdough, putting back the whole grain. There was no way they were getting Vin to eat cauliflower and whole grain bread in one meal.

“Anything I need to do to it before I stick it on a tray and in the oven.”

“Just remove the plastic wrap first.” The comment sounded innocent, but Chris knew it wasn't, and glared at Josiah, wadding up the plastic wrap and the cardboard that the bread had been in and throwing it at the back of his head.

“Shut your mouth.”

“Are we discussing the time Mistah Larabee forgot to take the plastic wrap off the pizza?” Ezra looked a lot better than he had when he walked to the bathroom, face washed and hair combed, but there was a brittleness, a hint of wariness, in his smile. Didn't keep Chris from scowling and pointing at him.

“You, shut your mouth too.” Ezra's smile lost some of the wariness, being replaced with mischief.

“If Ah recall correctly, you told us 'no, the pizza does not smell weird, dammit' befah opening the oven door and being enveloped in black smoke.”

Josiah laughed out loud, and Ezra's smile grew brighter, Chris unable to keep his own lips from turning up at the corners, even as he muttered, “And a year later I'm still hearing about it. Not like I didn't still feed you ungrateful jerks anyways.” Josiah's chuckles tapered off and the room grew quiet except for the sounds of food sizzling and the knife hitting the cutting board, chopping chicken. Chris pulled a tray out from the cupboard below the oven and set it on the counter, slapping the loaf onto it, pulled the chopped cauliflower out of the oven and carried it over to Josiah, who took the tray, potholders and all and dumped the cauliflower into the pot, and all the while Chris watched Ezra while trying to act like he wasn't. The boy moved across the room to Josiah, but not in a direct line, moving first over to the door that led to the pantry, and then over to the fruit bowl on the kitchen island, examining about half the pieces in it, but not taking one. Josiah had clearly noticed him as well, dumping the vegetable mixture in the pot and stirring it with the knife again-that was why there were scratch marks on all his pots and pans, and Chris knew it-before adding the chicken to the still hot pan. Ezra, either pretending to or actually being interested in the soup, walked over to peer into the pot.

“What are you preparing, Mistah Sanchez? It smells divine.”

Josiah smiled at the top of the boy's head, his voice a quiet rumble when he answered, “Cheesy vegetable and chicken soup, and fresh bread to go with it. It'll be ready soon. Hungry?” Ezra's stomach growled as if on cue and the big man chuckled quietly, Chris grinning from where he was watching them.

“Very, but Ah suppose you already figured that out.” Ezra's hands fiddled with the ends of his shirt sleeves as he stepped slightly away from the stove, a 'tell', to use Ezra's word for it, that Chris had seen before, though not twice in one day, and turned towards the big man,“Mistah Sanchez...Josiah, Ah-”

Josiah had quit stirring the chicken around as soon as the 'Mistah' had passed Ezra's lips, setting the knife on the counter and wiping his hands on his pants, and now he took him by the shoulders and turned him towards the sliding door in the back of the room, stepping forward so he was at his side and wrapping an arm around him.

“C'mon son, let's go talk.” He caught Chris's eye and gestured towards the range, and he nodded. He'd keep it from burning, dump the chicken in when it was done. When the door was pulled shut behind them, Chris crossed to the range, opened a drawer to the side of it and pulled out a stirring spoon, turning down the burner the pot was sitting on. He knew Ezra was fine with Josiah, that except for Vin, Josiah was probably the closest to Ezra out of them all, treated him pretty much like he _was_ his son, but that didn't keep him from wanting to peek out the door. He didn't, that would be damned rude and piss both of them off if they saw, but he still wanted to. Chris grimaced as he realized that he was maybe a little jealous that Ezra had called Josiah by his first name, that the kid was fine with Josiah wrapping his arm around him, which was plain ridiculous. The chicken looked like it needed another minute or two to cook and Chris shifted it around idly, then stirred the soup, scooping some of the pale yellow liquid and a chunk of green pepper into the end of the spoon and blowing on it, before bringing it to his lips. He looked at the pot in appreciation. That was pretty damn good, and he supposed besides SOS, chili, spaghetti, and curry so hot it almost burned your mouth off, they could add cheese soup to the list of things to ask the profiler to make. Chris went to take another spoonful and Vin made a disgusted noise right behind him.

“Ya double dipping?” Putting the spoon down on the cutting board, trying not to let Vin know he'd surprised the crap out of him, he turned around to scowl at the younger man.

“Like you care, Tanner. Seen you put your finger in my chip dip more than once, lost count of the times you stuck something that had already been in your mouth in it.” The first part was a bit of an exaggeration, Vin had done that once during a Broncos VS Texans game, the Bronco's had been stomping on Texas and the scrawny-assed tracker had drank a bit more than he could handle, and Chris was still sure it had been for revenge that his team was losing, considered he'd swiped two fingers through the middle right after the Broncos had scored and given Chris a shit eating grin when he'd barked at him for it. The other though, that was a bad habit Vin wasn't trying too hard to break, and scarily enough Chris thought they were all getting used to it.

Vin shrugged, “It ain't gross when it's me, just when it's the rest of ya'll.”

“That doesn't even make sense.”

“Sure it does, can't give myself germs.” Vin grinned at him as he moved out of the cooking area to the open space in front of the sliding door where the kitchen table sat, pulling out a seat and plopping down in it, swinging his feet up onto the table as he tilted back in the chair.

“Vin, get your dirty shoes off where we eat.”

“Ain't wearing no shoes.”

Chris rolled his eyes, “Fine, get your dirty feet off where we eat.” Vin didn't move and Chris hovered his hand over the cutting board. “There is a knife right here in easy reach...” Vin pulled his feet off the table, and Chris nodded at him, “That's what I thought.”

“Ya know ya love me too much anyway, cowboy.”

“Not when you're getting athletes foot on my table, I don't.” Vin spluttered out a laugh, shaking his head. Chris turned off the burner under the chicken, pulling out a clean wooden spoon and scraped it into the pot, stirring it around. He turned the temperature on the soup down to low and bent down to rummage in the cupboard below for the lid, causing a small avalanche of clanging lids by the time he found it, tossing them back where they were supposed to go and shoving the cupboard closed when they threatened to slide forward again. Lid on the soup, which looked like it was getting nice and thick, Chris moved over to check on the bread, flipping on the oven light so he could see it without releasing the heat. The outside was turning a nice golden brown color and it had poofed out a little, which Chris hadn't expected to happen with bread that was already mostly baked. There were a couple minutes left on the timer so he left it and walked over to the table and sat down himself.

Vin's foot nudged his chair, and he raised an eyebrow just a bit when Chris looked his way, _'How you holding up?'_

Chris nodded slowly, _'Fine, just don't wanna have to do that again.'_

Vin shrugged, _'Maybe you won't have to?'_

A smile cracking his face, Chris tipped his head, _'Have you met Ezra?'_

It was Vin's turn to nod, a rueful smile crossing his face, _'You got a point.'_

They sat like that until the timer went off and Chris got up to pull the bread out of the oven, leaving it on the tray to cool while he found a knife and a bread basket to put it in. “Vin, will you set the table?”

“Bowls an' spoons?”

“And saucers to put the bread on.” Slicing the loaf into thick slices Chris piled it in the basket and laid a towel over the top to keep in the heat, carrying it over to the table, snagging the butter dish from next to the toaster along the way. Vin had the table set, and Chris had put a trivet down and hauled the whole pot to the table, when Josiah and Ezra came in the back door, Vin greeting them and wisely not commenting on the fact that it looked like Ezra might have been crying again. Chris raised a questioning eyebrow at Josiah when Ezra was at the sink washing his hands, and the profiler shrugged, mouthing, 'emotional', at him. It seemed though that their conversation must have gone okay, because Ezra-very casually, while acting like he was just examining the items on the counter-waited for Josiah to be done washing up before walking to the table and sitting down next to the older man, his wince making Chris look away, wishing he'd thought to grab a cushion for him. Dishes were filled and the bread basket was passed around, nothing much but, 'pass the butter' and grunts of appreciation being heard for several minutes. For once Vin was being given a run for his money, though Ezra pushed away his third helping when the bowl was half full, still chewing slowly on the thick and crusty sourdough he'd been dipping in the soup. Vin, Chris had noticed, was feeding the cauliflower in his soup to Leo, and was only surprised he wasn't tossing him the rest of his vegetables too. Whatever room Vin wound up in tonight, that's where Leo was sleeping, he could deal with dog farts.

“So, ya feeling up t' a movie night Ez?” Vin asked, dipping his already heavily buttered bread into his bowl of soup and taking a bite at the end of his question.

“Would it be alright Chris?” Ezra's voice was just a little bit eager, and Chris nodded, swallowing his own mouthful.

“'Course Ezra, why don't you text or call the boys and let them know to come out after work?” He had to admit, even if he hadn't still been planning on it, Ezra calling him Chris probably would have had him changing his mind. “Tell 'em to bring snacks.”

His mouth was already open to respond when it looked like a cloud passed over Ezra, his face going blank, shuttered off, “Ah think, perhaps, Ah spoke too soon...could we postpone for anothah night?” Confused and not sure what was wrong, Chris opened his mouth to tell Ezra sure, when Vin spoke up.

"Hey Ez, don't worry, if any of the guys give ya a hard time I'll kick 'em in the balls.” That got a surprised laugh out of Ezra, and well he looked uncertain still, it was better than blank.

“No, you won't, Vin.” Chris gave his second in command a 'look', “I'm the team leader, if anybody needs to be kicked in the balls, I'll do it.” Chris grinned a bit wickedly as that had Vin snickering, Ezra quickly joining in.

“Nobody is kicking anybody in the balls. I'm sure none of the others would dream of making fun of you, Ezra, and if they do, _I'll_ have a talk with them.” Josiah intoned, voice serious as he looked around the table at all three of them.

“'Siah, yer no fun.” Vin complained, still grinning. Chris just went back to his food, knowing Josiah was right and none of the others would say a word to Ezra. If they did though, it was more likely to be whichever of them was closest that 'talked' to them, because Chris wasn't putting up with that, not for a second.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

“Buck!” JD cried out as Buck's jacket opened as he was sliding out of the truck, the young man freezing halfway out the opposite door as he spotted the shiny rectangular box Buck had tucked inside and the title on it. “You said you weren't going to bring that!”

 

“Nope,” the man gave a smile he thought was charming, but really just let JD know he was thoroughly enjoying himself, as he answered, “You told me not to, and I said I'd think on it and decide.” He finished climbing out of the truck as JD glared at him, and then hurried to catch up when Buck shut his door and started striding towards the house.

 

“Buck! Like you didn't know what I'd think when you took the wrapping paper off and put it back on the game shelf.” He trotted up the porch steps slightly sideways, so he was facing Buck's profile while he talked to him, both annoyed and earnest. “Ezra's already had a bad day, he doesn't need you being mean.”

 

Buck waved a hand at him, dismissing what he'd said, and JD's eyes narrowed. “I ain't being mean, I'm being funny. Learn to tell the difference, kid. Ez'll appreciate it, I guarantee ya.” At the door now, Buck swung it open and walked in, bellowing out, “Hey, the fun has arrived!”, as he kicked off his shoes. With a sigh, JD bent down to untie his own shoes so he could follow after him, a reluctant grin tugging at his lips. If anyone _could_ give that to Ezra today and not hurt his feelings it would be Buck, but he still wasn't sure he'd succeed. 

 

Though if he did upset him, Chris would probably kill Buck, and that was always good for a laugh.

 

JD felt kind of weird about this whole thing-and he wasn't even talking about the thing with Ezra suddenly being twelve years younger than he had been, that was so weird he was just dealing with it, not thinking about it, but with this whole thing with Chris  _spanking_ him. He knew Ezra had messed up, and big time, it was bad enough he'd stolen Vin's jeep, but he could have gotten hurt, and that was way worse. Buck had said Chris was probably more scared than he was mad, though he was plenty mad, and that Ezra would be fine. And, of course he would be, it's not like JD thought Chris would actually  _hurt_ him. 

 

A spanking hurt of course, JD had caught it a couple times growing up when he'd really upset his mam, but only for a little while. But it just felt kind of mean-Ezra had been through a lot in the last couple of days, JD was watching it and he still couldn't really imagine how messed up it must be. He just kind of thought they could have given him some slack, at least at first.

 

Buck was so full of shit when he'd been teasing him that JD was just worried he'd be next. There was a big difference between sixteen and twenty-one, whatever he said. He was closer to twenty-two than he was to twenty-one now, anyway.

 

Following the calls of, “In here!”, that came from the den the two made their way through the house to where the rest of the team was gathered, spread out around the blue and brown room on the two old, but overstuffed and incredibly comfortable, couches, except for Vin, who was perched on the back of one of the armchairs, and Ezra, who was looking through the two DVD racks to the side of the TV.

 

“Howdy guys. Hey Ez, I got something for you.” Buck was tossing it almost before Ezra had turned around, Chris barking about not throwing shit around his TV, as the younger-and gosh, that was never going to stop being weird, was it?-boy caught the box neatly. To JD's relief, rather than looking upset Ezra started chuckling as he read the title, shaking his head back and forth.

 

“GTA, Mr. Wilmington, really?” Buck grinned as he plopped himself down hard on one of the long couches, ignoring the annoyed look Chris shot at him as it shuddered. JD moved over to the opposite couch and sat down in-between Nathan and Josiah, still a little miffed that Buck had tricked him into thinking he wasn't bringing the game.

 

“Figured it was better if you got your taste for car-thievin' virtually, won't have to spend my money on bail that way.” Ezra rolled his eyes at the man, voice both amused and a little annoyed as he responded. JD understood, Buck made him feel like that about ten times a day.

 

Of course, if he listened to Buck, JD did that to him about twenty times a day, so he guessed he couldn't complain too much.

 

“Ah can assure you, any 'taste' Ah may have been developing for car theft has been thoroughly halted in it's tracks.”

 

“Well, good. It's a fun game anyway and it's yours if you want it.” Looking surprised-what, did he think Buck was going to take it back after giving it to him? He could be a jerk, but he wasn't ever _that_ kind of jerk-Ezra nodded in thanks, looking at the game with more interest now, turning it over in his hands to examine the back.

 

“I don't know guys,” JD's gaze moved to the team's healer, whose concerned look might have been more believable if the corners of his lips weren't twitching up, “aren't people always saying those games can cause criminal behavior in kids? Don't know if we should risk it after today...”

 

“Very clevah, Mistah Jackson, very clevah indeed,” Ezra huffed slightly, still amused but looking like he might not be for long. JD wondered if anybody but him had noticed that his hands had tightened on the game case for just a second, before he'd realized Nathan was joking, “Just for that Ah should pick The Fast and the Furious as mah selection.” Nathan groaned out loud and held up his hands like he was appealing to Ezra's sense of mercy.

 

“Don't, please, those movies are terrible. I still don't understand how a bunch of high-jackers wind up heroes.” Nathan shook his head and opened his mouth again, probably to list more reasons that the series everyone but him and Chris enjoyed was terrible, but first Buck threw a pillow at him and then Vin threw-was that his _sock? Ewww..._ “Okay, y'all really need to quit throwing things at me, or I'm going to start throwing things back. Sharp things!” He tossed the pillow back at Buck, nailing him in the ear, and scrambled to pull the sock off his shoulder, yelping in disgust and tossing the yellowing cloth on the floor in front of him when he realized what it was, turning to Vin with a _what is wrong with you_ look on his face, “When the hell was the last time you washed your socks? White socks ain't supposed to be that color, and ain't nothing supposed to smell like that!” Vin was laughing too hard to answer, quiet chuckles that shook his whole body with their force, and JD couldn't help but snicker(he _didn't_ giggle, he didn't care what Buck said) at Nathan's exclamation. Ezra, looking like he was holding back laughter himself turned back to the DVD racks long enough to grab what JD assumed was the one he'd been looking at while they were walking in and moved over to the DVD player. Probably, he'd picked one of the ancient Bond movies he'd left here, and wanted to make sure he had it playing before anybody protested, since he'd made them watch them even more times than Buck had made them watch Die Hard. JD didn't think anybody would have protested much anyway, not now, but he would have done the same thing if he were Ezra. 

 

Sure enough, when the uproar over the sock had died down (“It's only been worn today, Doc, jus' stained.” “Buy bleach, 'cause the stink is lingerin'.” “Bucklin, when did anybody ask ya?” “He's not wrong. I'm telling you, there is something medically wrong with your feet.” “I picked him and JD up after they went hiking last week, I think my sense of smell fled in self-defense.” “Hey, I wear deodorant!” “Son, it wasn't strong enough, and that's a fact.” “Should smell his room when it's getting close to laundry day.” “Shut-up, Buck!” “Both of you shut-up, or I'll make you smell Vin's sock.” “Hell, it ain't that bad cowboy.” “Do something about your foot fungus, Tanner.” “I ain't got no fungus!”) or really, when Ezra turned up the volume loud enough to drown them out, the TV was playing the opening of  _Thunderball_ and Ezra was moving to sit on the other couch in between Chris and Buck, reaching over and grabbing the popcorn bowl that Buck had snagged from Chris in the first place, ignoring Buck's sputtering as he took a handful and rested the bowl in between him and Chris, their leader chuckling and taking a piece of popcorn himself. It didn't keep him from grabbing the clicker and turning the volume to something less eardrum shattering.

 

“You don't ever get tired of these old classics, do you son?” From one of the others it might have been a complaint, but there was nothing but fondness in Josiah's tone. It wasn't really a question that required an answer, but Ezra nodded slightly, and then to JD's surprise, spoke up.

 

“Ah used to pretend Ah was a secret agent, working with Bond, when Ah was a boy. They play Bond movies everywhere, so Ah could always find them.” He looked slightly embarrassed after his admission, and the way most of their teammates were looking at him with an 'aww' expression definitely didn't help, JD knew that for a fact, and he piped up, even though he knew Buck would give him total shit for it, with his own story.

 

“I used to pretend I was the kid Indiana Jones took around with him instead of Short Round. Or that I was Short Round. Even made myself a costume, and everything.” Ezra smiled slightly at him, opening his mouth, but Buck beat him to the punch.

 

“That's a great story, kid-would you happen to have a picture of yourself in that costume?” JD glared at the grinning man, knowing perfectly well why he wanted it.

 

“Why, so you can show it to Casey?”

 

“Hey, she thought that picture of you in your little feetie pajamas was _adorable._ ” Buck put his hands under his chin and swooned in a very poor imitation of Casey, batting his eyelashes wildly. JD doubted Casey had swooned in her entire life.

 

“I told you what I'd do-unless you want to lose your mustache stay away from my photos.” He lifted his chin and stared right at Buck, Buck chuckling as he raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“Touch my mustache, JD, and it'll be war, boy. I'll shave your damn eyebrows off. Leave that scraggly thing you call a beard, see what you look like then.”

 

“I'll-”

 

“Shut it you two, we're trying to watch a damn movie.” Chris's word was law, at least when he sounded like that, and JD obediently shut it, a little annoyed that Buck had gotten the last word, but not too bad. He wasn't kidding about shaving off his mustache if Buck decided to share anymore photos with his girlfriend, though.

 

Showing her the one of him in feetie pajamas hadn't been that bad. It had been the one he showed her where JD had decidedly  _ not  _ been wearing pajamas of any sort that he'd really had the problem with. When he'd complained Buck had just said everyone should have embarrassing baby pictures shown to their first serious girlfriend, it was a time-honored tradition and JD should thank him! And no, the fact that Buck had been laughing so hard he could barely stand up while he was telling him that, did not mean it was bullshit. JD had been reeling a bit from hearing Casey called his  _ serious  _ girlfriend, because that was as scary an idea as it was a cool one, and Buck had walked away, still laughing, before he'd thought of anything good to say back. 

 

He settled back into his seat, happily taking a couple pieces of red licorice when Josiah held out a package to him and Nathan, and then, seeing the sad puppy eyes Vin was sending him, Josiah tossed a few pieces his direction, the sharpshooter catching them neatly in one hand. JD's eyes turned back to the TV in time to see the start of the jetpack scene, chuckling as the bad guys didn't even seem to be aiming at Bond once he was up in the air, just shooting randomly at the sky. He wished their perps aim was that bad, it would definitely make the job easier. A car with a pop-up bullet shield and water canons to take out the bad guys would be pretty badass too.

 

Watching the movie went a lot like it usually did, people interjecting comments here and there, (“It doesn't seem like it would be easy to keep henchmen if you kept feeding them to sharks.” “Don' think that guy much cares, 'Siah.”) and passing candy and other snacks here and there. Buck and JD realized halfway through the movie that they'd left the oreos and bugles they'd brought in the truck, each one telling the other to go grab them, the others telling them to shut-up, until they were whisper shouting at each other from across the room and Vin finally interrupted, “What kind of bugles did you get?”

 

“What?” JD stared at him in confusion, remembering to lower his voice to a whisper again as Ezra's annoyed look was backed up by Josiah saying his name quietly, “Pizza and nacho cheese, why?”

 

“I'll get 'em.” Wondering whether there would be any left by the time Vin brought them back in JD went back to watching the movie, getting sucked in until Vin literally dropped the thing of oreos(minus the handful he'd grabbed for himself of course) onto his head, surprising a yelp out of him. A similar noise came from a laughing Buck a second later when the sharpshooter nailed him in the back of the head with the bag of pizza bugles. “That's fer talkin' through half the damn movie.”

 

“Why the heck did you just drop 'em on JD when you chucked 'em at me, Junior? Stung a little.” Buck rubbed the back of his head over-dramatically, though since he'd already opened the bag of bugles, and quit rubbing his head to grab a handful the second he finished talking, Vin just rolled his eyes at him.

 

“'Cause ye're old an' should know better.” Buck sat up as Vin dropped bonelessly down into his armchair with the bag of bugles he'd commandeered, throwing his legs up over the arm of it.

 

“Think you forgot an, 'er' there, pard.”

 

“Nope.”

 

JD laughed as Vin shot Buck a grin that basically asked him what he was gonna do about it and laughed even harder when Buck threw an entire handful of bugles at him, paying no attention to Chris's cry of, “Hey, no throwing food in my house!” Most fell to the ground before they ever reached Vin, though a few rained down around him, the wiry Texan even managing to catch one in his mouth, quickly chewing and swallowing.

 

“Thanks.” While Buck was occupied mock glaring at Vin, Ezra, shooting a mischievous smile at the occupants of the other couch, grabbed a handful of buttery popcorn and the back of Buck's shirt, quickly stuffing the handful inside and then scooting back by Chris, _giggling_ as Buck started grabbing at the back of his shirt, bitching completely not-seriously about butter stains. 

 

“Dammit Buck, see what you started?” Chris complained, pulling the popcorn bowl out of Ezra's reach when he went for another handful.

 

Buck, who had managed to get his shirt untucked and the handful of popcorn pulled out, scooped up a few pieces from where he'd been brushing them onto the floor and tossed them up into Chris's face making him growl. “Lighten up, pard.” Suddenly a long, brown arm was snaking it's way over JD to grab a cookie, JD wondering why Nathan hadn't just asked him to pass the package, until the cookie went sailing past him, smacking off the back of Chris's head. Nathan was already leaning back in his seat by the time it hit Chris, so that when Buck looked over, grinning wide enough it had to hurt, all he saw was JD holding the package of oreos, “Good back-up, kid, thanks!”

 

“It wasn't me!” Chris's head and shoulders slowly started to twist towards JD, like he was a very large owl.

 

“Suuuure, JD, it wasn't you.” Buck nodded with over-exaggerated earnestness, clearly thinking he was full of crap.

 

“It _wasn't_. C'mon, Nathan tell them.” Chris had turned all the way around now and JD would have been relieved that he was smiling instead of glaring, but he knew _that_ smile. He was gonna wind up wearing a whole package of oreos, he knew it. “ _Nathannn.”_

 

Chuckling, Nathan bit the bullet, “He's telling the truth, it was me.” Chris turned his evil smile a few degrees to the right, fixing it on Nathan, and next thing anyone knew the entire contents of the popcorn bowl, minus the bowl itself were flying at the medic, arching up in the air and coming down like a soft, buttery hail storm over the entire couch and all its occupants.

 

It was a free for all after that, Vin jumping around the room, using his thumb and finger to flick the skittles he'd been hoarding at people like b.b's, while handfuls of popcorn rescued from the floor were being tossed back and forth. Josiah attempted to rub the raisinets he'd moved onto when they'd finished off the licorice in Nathan's hair as revenge for getting them involved in the food fight in the first place, a laughing, protesting, Nathan grabbing JD and using him as a human shield. Flailing around eventually got him free, squirming so he landed on the floor, he grabbed a handful of the smashed raisinets and threw them back up at Josiah, cheering when a few of the candies, half melted, stuck to his shirt like 3-D polka dots-then quickly scrambled backwards when Josiah, out of candy, grabbed a throw pillow to throw instead, sticking his tongue out when it missed him. Turning to the rest of the group JD shook his head and went to help Buck, who was being held down by Chris and Vin now, while Ezra gleefully covered him in bugles, including sticking the tip of one in each nostril, and was laughing too hard to make his thrashing around effective. He decided the best way to help was to wrestle Vin off of Buck (no way was he going for Chris) and launched himself at the older man, wrapping his arms around his middle and bowling him over backwards. “Gonna get it now, Dunne!”

 

“Bring it on, Tanner!” They rolled around on the floor, crushing and getting covered by even more snack food, mock fighting and wrestling, until Vin got him in a headlock and twisted JD around so he could see that Josiah was just sitting on the couch, watching the rest of them. After taking most of the raisinets that had been meant for Nathan, JD didn't think that was quite right, and hissed up at Vin, elbowing him as best he could twisted up like he was, to make sure he had his attention, “Hey, look at 'Siah.” Vin looked, though he didn't loosen his hold on JD as he twisted around and JD elbowed him again to get him to loosen his grip before he choked him. Vin let him go but flicked his ear, JD frowning at him as he rubbed it.

 

“He ain't nearly dirty enough.” Vin muttered, a smile curving his lips as he got an idea of what JD wanted to do. “Not when ya got raisinets meltin' in yer hair.”

 

“Nope.” JD hadn't actually realized any had gotten stuck and ran a quick hand through his hair, but it was no good, only a couple popped free, the rest were melted, and held in there good now. Eyes roaming, smirking as he saw that Nathan was attempting to pull Chris off Buck and not having much luck, he grabbed a mostly empty bag of BBQ potato chips, “salt and pepper is boring, he needs some BBQ.” Vin made a face at what JD had thought was a pretty good joke, but snatched up a handful of half-smashed oreos, and held up three fingers, counting down, and then they both rushed at the profiler. Josiah saw them at the last minute and let out a noise like a startled animal, but JD had only gotten about half the crumbs that were left in the bag poured on top of his curls before the man had him in a one armed headlock. The protests coming from the side of him let him know that Vin had been captured too, hopefully not before he'd managed to smear enough oreo cream and crumbs on Josiah's shirt to make it worth it. Trying to get away just wound up with his face being closer to Josiah's armpit, so with a groan he gave up.

 

“Well, well, and what should I do with the two of you, hmm?” Josiah said in a slightly sing-song voice, shaking them up and down lightly.

 

“Let us go so we can go after the others as a group?” JD said hopefully, Josiah chuckling quietly before he answered.

 

“Nope. I think the room's taken about as much as it can. Might just hold you two here for awhile, keep you out of trouble.”

 

“'Siah-”, Whatever Vin had been about to say was cut off by a thump and a cry of pain from Ezra, Josiah immediately releasing them as he turned to see what was going on. JD winced as he got a look-it looked like Buck had finally succeeding in, well, bucking, off his tormentors, and Ezra had gone flying back to land on his already sore butt with a shout, quickly rolling off of it and onto his side.

 

“Aw hell, Hoss, I'm sorry, c'mere.” Ezra shook his head, climbing up on his knees carefully and meeting no one's eyes.

 

“Ah'm fine, just landed a bit hard.” Buck made a sympathetic noise and scooted over his direction, raining bugles as he went and not seeming to notice, tossing an arm around Ezra's shoulders.

 

“Sounded like it, Ez, and hitting where you're already sore can't a helped none.” As JD watched Ezra's cheeks colored and his face went flat, his gaze flashing over to Chris for just a second-and, crap, no one had told Ezra everybody knew, had they? Probably, he should have guessed they'd at least have some idea, since Vin and Josiah obviously knew, having been here, but it sucked if he hadn't, finding out like that.

 

Maybe, he'd just been hoping they didn't know, that seemed like what most people would do, certainly what JD himself would be hoping in his place.

 

“Nevertheless, Ah'm fine.” Ezra ducked out from under Buck's arm, the older man looking guilty and like he didn't know what to do next.

 

Realizing that everybody staring at him all concerned was probably the last thing Ezra wanted right now, JD looked around the rest of the room, the low whistle that left him at the mess they'd created coming naturally, “Wow guys, I don't think we've _ever_ wrecked the den this bad before.” There were crushed chips and popcorn pieces and bugles and cookie crumbs _everywhere,_ with smashed raisinets, m&ms and skittles dotted on top of them and even stuck to the furniture, and, in a few spots, the walls.

 

“None of you are leaving until this is clean.” Chris demanded, looking around the room in horror.

 

“Can't hold us hostage, Larabee.” Vin teased, Chris's head snapping around to him and while JD couldn't see his face anymore, he could picture the narrowed eyes perfectly.

 

“Watch me, Tanner.”

 

“This is why Rain never lets us have movie nights at our house.” Nathan said sagely. “I married a smart woman.”

 

“Does this mean movie night is ovah? Ah wanted to watch The Goonies next, Ah've nevah viewed it.”

 

Both JD's and Vin's heads whipped over to Ezra in horror, because that was a travesty that could not be allowed to continue. Or, at least that was what JD thought. “Seriously? I thought every kid watched that movie, like, twenty times.”

 

“Ah saw part of the beginning once, and it looked intriguing,” Ezra said, nodding his head, “but Ah have nevah watched it.”

 

Vin shook his head as he turned back to Chris, “Hell Pard, ya can't say no that, it's like not seein' The Princess Bride. Ain't right.”

 

“He's right Chris, we gotta watch it.”

 

“Please, Mistah Larabee?”

 

All three of them turned puppy dog eyes on Chris, JD having to hide a smirk when he heard Buck whisper, “Hell, no way he can stand up to that.” Finally, Chris threw his hands up in the air, giving in.

 

“Fine, fine, we'll watch your damn movie.” He held out a warning finger as JD cheered, “That doesn't mean we aren't gonna clean up in here first. Vin, JD, Ezra, brooms and dustpans, garbage bags. Nathan, cleaner, stain remover and some rags. Buck, the vacuum. Josiah, help me get all the loose stuff off the couches, chairs and tables so it can be swept or vacuumed . Anybody who finishes their job early isn't done, help somebody else. Go.” They broke apart in all different directions, Vin, JD and Ezra rushing to the broom closet, and somehow, despite not being the youngest anymore, JD still wound up with the broom that had the funny handle you had to keep making sure was tight, or it would fall off every other minute.

 

JD swept the walls first, knocking the stuck on candy to the floor, wincing as little streaks of color were left behind here and there, while Ezra hunted for stray pieces that had made it all the way over to the raised area where Chris's desk and other office stuff was, or to the far corners of the room, and Vin went after the bulk of it, everything getting slowly pushed into a gigantic pile that was forming in the middle of the floor. Chris and Josiah were tilting the furniture and shaking it to get the crumbs they hadn't been able to brush off out, Nathan spraying the fabric liberally once it was decrumbed. Buck was vacuuming behind where they were sweeping, getting the little pieces that would have been trapped in the carpet otherwise. JD took one bottle of cleaner and a rag and went after the spots on the walls, and Nathan and Ezra scrubbed off the tables. Finally, after what felt like forever, definitely a lot longer than it had taken them to make the mess in the first place, a giant, outside sized garbage bag full to the brim with empty snack containers and the food that been in them sitting in front of them, they looked around and realized-it was still a freaking mess. “Screw it, it's good enough for now,” Chris said, and Buck clapped him on the shoulder.

 

“Hell pard, looks like you're gonna have to give Mrs. Potter that raise earlier than you were planning, huh?”

 

Chris snorted, “Unless I want her to quit.”

 

“Movie time?” JD asked, a little eagerly-The Goonies was one of his favorites and he was sure Ezra was going to love it. They were kind of like The Goonies in a way, the whole of Team Seven, he meant, not just him and Ezra, misfits who might not have worked as well with any other team, but were always able to band together and fight for what was right.

 

“Yes, fine, go put it on. Buck, you wanna help me haul this into the kitchen? Don't want any critters getting into it overnight.” Chris grabbed one end of the bag, and Buck grabbed the other, JD figuring more to make sure it didn't spill or rip than because it was actually that heavy. He turned and had to smile as he saw Ezra was already over by the DVD racks, pulling the movie out of it's slot with a grin on his face. Grown-Up Ezra would never have let himself act so excited over a movie, even, heck, _especially_ if he was that excited, and while JD was hoping they'd have him back to normal soon(he missed him, even if it was weird and maybe even kinda mean to say that when Ezra was right in front of him) it was sort of nice to see him like this. He walked over, starting to talk as Ezra looked up at him.

 

“Hey, you're gonna love this movie. We should watch it on wide-screen, not full screen, if there's a choice, 'cause there's lots of little details you don't wanna miss. It's lucky you're watching it on DVD the first time and not TV, a lot of the TV versions cut out scenes, and...”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Ezra stared at the phone hesitantly, deciding whether it would be worth the risk of getting caught to acquire the knowledge he longed for. Truthfully, while he knew that Chris and A.D Travis were discussing him, he didn't know exactly what the topic was, the case, the medical mystery that had become his existence, or his future possibilities. Possibly, they were discussing his return to work. Ezra knew of course, that there was no way he would be going into the field, either undercover or in a more traditional role, but surely he could still research and perform other tasks, prove that he was still a valuable member of the team. If he were candid, it didn't matter what they were discussing exactly, all knowledge was valuable, you merely had to way the risks of obtaining it against the advantages it could give you. The ancient, corded phone that sat next to the workbench in the garage, a carry over from before cell-phones became a leash for the whole world that Mr. Larabee had never bothered to remove, did not require you to push a button to get on the line, merely to lift the receiver. If he did it slowly and carefully there was a decent chance neither man would notice.

 

Carefully he reached his hand out and laid it over the receiver, preparing to bring it up bit by bit, steady now, Ezra- “ _What_ do you think you're doing?” Hand flying away from the phone, Ezra forced himself to turn around slowly, smiling casually at Nathan despite the arms crossed across his chest and the annoyed look on his face.

 

“Ah was pursuing Chris's tools, Ah wanted to examine his carving knives.”

 

“That why your hand was on the phone?” Nathan's voice was dry and his eyes knowing as he peered down at Ezra. Seeing that he was caught, Ezra gave the sheepish grin that would have softened any of his teammates, except apparently the man standing in front of him. And the man whose conversation he'd been trying to listen in to. Shifting on his feet, Nathan shook his head, “Eavesdropping is rude, you should know better than that. Already got yourself in trouble once today.”

 

“But they're talking about _me._ ” Nathan did soften at that, a sigh leaving him as his arms dropped to his sides. 

 

“Anything you really need to know Chris will tell you.” Ezra gave him an incredulous look and Nathan nodded insistently, “Now, I'm not saying he's going to tell you everything, but anything really important, he will.” That his definition of truly important likely did not mesh with Chris's was something Ezra was certain Nathan knew, and just wasn't going to mention. “Are you ready to go?” Ezra nodded, slightly sulkily, leaning back against the tool bench instead of moving towards his teammate. Nathan had left his car at the office the night before and rode with Josiah, so they were both riding in with Chris and then doing...something. Nathan hadn't actually told him what they were doing, and part of Ezra was convinced he was going to be whisked off to a doctor and spend the day being examined. He knew the medic was still concerned for his health, and supposed he should be grateful. But...

 

It was bad enough when it was  _Nathan_ doing so, let alone some strange doctor he didn't know.

 

“Good.” Nathan grinned just a bit, paying no attention to Ezra's pouting, “It's only going to be for a couple of hours, but you're going into the office today.” Ezra perked up immediately, having to tamp down the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet. That was certainly far better than the doctor, though his lack of self control-control that he had been working hard to build since he was younger than his physical age now-was exceedingly aggravating.

 

“Is there a job Ah'm needed for?”

 

“Uh, not exactly. You weren't ever officially debriefed, so Travis wants us to take care of that, and I think he has identity documents for you.”

 

“Oh.” That hadn't been what Ezra was longing to hear, but he suppose it wasn't bad news either. In fact, considering that once he was debriefed Travis would give him a certain amount of vacation time, and once it was over Mister Larabee would no longer have an excuse to keep him from the office, it was in fact possibly quite a good thing. “Do you happen to know what moniker Ah shall be using?” 

 

“No, I don't. I do know that part of the cover story is going to be that you're related to,” Nathan paused, not quite sure how to put it and Ezra broke in while he was looking for words.

 

“Mahself?” Ezra's drawl deepened with his sardonic tone, “It's like a masturbation and inbreeding joke all in one, which Ah suppose is appropriate considahing mah home state.” The black man rolled his eyes to the heavens, muttering something about teenagers that Ezra didn't quite catch. “Am Ah to be mah own brothah?”

 

“I don't know anything for certain yet, but I'd imagine either that or a cousin. A cousin might be more likely. Harder for anyone to prove wrong.”

 

“And it would give Mothah less of a claim on me.” Ezra regretted the words before Nathan's eyes zeroed in on him, and knew when they did, that, just as he feared, he had revealed too much.

 

“Your mother doesn't have any kind of claim on you at all. Hopefully we can get this figured out before she decides to come for a visit, but even if we don't you don't have to worry about her.” Nathan looked sure, confident and Ezra wanted to believe him, but well he knew that out of all the men Chris and Nathan were the two who truly did not like or trust the woman(well, Josiah didn't trust her, but it didn't keep the man from admiring her in his own, slightly disturbing to think about, way), unlike Chris he didn't think Nathan had ever realized just what his mother was capable of.

 

Sometimes, it bothered him that they didn't like her-she was his mother, and in her own way, a remarkable woman. She did love him and he loved her. Mother had killed a man once, to keep him safe. Even Ezra wasn't supposed to know about that.

 

He didn't trust her either. With his life, yes, but not with his well being.

 

“Hey, I mean it. Your momma isn't gonna take you anywhere.” Nathan raised an eyebrow at him, and Ezra wasn't sure why, his lips twisting down into a frown as he waited for him to go on, “Her son Ezra is 28. If she tries to say that's you, no matter how true it is, it's going to look to the court systems like she's mentally unstable.” Ezra rolled his eyes at the man's naivety, voice a tinge scornful as he responded.

 

“Of course she isn't going to concoct as foolish a plan as that, the woman has been a successful con artist for yeahs. Mothah would nevah sully her reputation in such a way, you should know bettah, Mistah Jackson.”

 

Nathan rocked back and forth on his feet a bit, looking a mix between amused, annoyed, and concerned, an expression Ezra was not unfamiliar with, he had to admit. “Before you go worrying too much about this, why don't you tell me what you think she's going to do?”

 

If Ezra hadn't spent an inordinate amount of time the night before thinking about just this while staring at his bedroom ceiling he wouldn't have been able to answer so effortlessly, but as it was the words slipped right off his tongue. “If she decides she wants me with her, one possibility is that Mothah will claim that whatevah identity Ah am given is actually her child, and sue for a DNA test to determine parentage. Ah will undoubtedly show as her child. There are othah things she could attempt as well. If she does not succeed initially she will keep trying until she does, as long as she deems it beneficial to herself in some way.” Nathan looked surprised for just a second, but then that confident expression came back, Ezra wondering how much was real, and how much was there just to reassure him.

 

“First off, she'd have to prove she had grounds to demand the DNA test in the first place or it'll just be dismissed by whatever judge it comes in front of. If she does somehow do that, then we'll do what we have to do to prove she's not fit to take care of you. Shouldn't be too hard since she's, plain and simple, not.” Ezra almost wanted to be offended for his mother here, but the fact was, he agreed. Nathan took a step forward, settling a large hand on Ezra's shoulder, letting it rest there as he spoke, “It doesn't matter how hard she tries or what she does, we're not going to let her take you anywhere. Not ever.” Ezra nodded his head up and down, carefully swallowing the lump in his throat, Nathan squeezing his shoulder once before letting him go. “Come on, we should get going-”

 

“Nathan! Ezra! Move you're asses or we're gonna be late!”

 

“Before that occurred?” Ezra smirked, as Nathan sighed.

 

“Yes, exactly. He's already in a mood, Mister 'go out to the horse barn at five in the morning without telling anybody.' You can't be doing things like that, scared the hell out of both of us.”

 

Not allowing the embarrassment to play over his face at that remembered incident, or the stinging swat that had accompanied it, Ezra put on a voice that imitated JD at his most guileless, “Ah do hope that's not going to be mah new surname, Ah don't believe it could fit properly on identification.” Nathan gave a reluctant sounding chuckle and started to shepherd him out of the room.

 

“Move it, smart ass.”

 

“Ah still say it would have been ruder to wake one of you at such an early hour.” Ezra could not say that he had imagined Mr. Larabee would be overly pleased with him if he were caught when he'd made his way out to the horse barn and Chaucer's stall, but he had been taken aback by how severely displeased he had been.

 

Conceivably, his freezing and not answering the man when Ezra had heard his alarmed bellowing may have had something to do with that.

 

“Yeah, well, Chris disagrees with you. Me, I think your butt could have waited an hour or two.” Finding himself eager even just to see the office, Ezra hurried through the den and kitchen, snagging a red apple out of the fruit bowl on his way and sticking it in his pocket. He wondered again what Nathan and him were doing, or if perhaps, he'd leave it up to Ezra. When the credits on The Goonies were rolling the medic had asked if he could crash there, so as to avoid Josiah's back-breakingly lumpy couch. After everyone else had left and Chris had told them to go to bed, Nathan had informed Chris he called 'dibs' on Ezra tomorrow, JD and Buck could wait, since they'd never actually decided which of them it was to be. Chris had chuckled quietly and called Nathan clever, and it had taken a moment but Ezra had realized that the others had been vying for who got to spend the day with him first. Of course, that also meant they got the day off, but for Nathan, who hated to get behind on paperwork, that wasn't necessarily a bonus.

 

It was...reassuring, to know that, that he wasn't just an obligation. Nathan had even said, not entirely joking, that he'd have to check his desk for pranks since he'd jumped the line.

 

Chris was waiting for them at the edge of the living room, almost in the entry way, looking impatient, though he relaxed a little when he saw them.

 

“There you two are. We don't get on the road soon we'll hit traffic. Ezra, you have everything you need?” Refraining from rolling his eyes with an extreme amount of effort, Ezra nodded. Mr. Larabee had started to inform him his eyes would get stuck that way when he did, which Ezra would not have believed when he was an actual _six_ year old, let alone a...sixteen year old with twelve years additional experience was possibly the most apt descriptor. Either way, it was becoming tiresome to hear.

 

“Yes sah.”

 

“I don't see a jacket.” This time he couldn't help the eye roll, and sure enough, “I'm going to glue your eyes like that, you keep rolling them at me.” Well, that was a unique threat at least, and _slightly_ more plausible than them sticking in place on their own.

 

“It's springtime, and the sun is out. Ah doubt Ah'll require one.” He did his best to sound as reasonable and non-argumentative as possible, but Chris wasn't impressed.

 

“Lucky for you, I watched the weather. It's supposed to rain this afternoon. Jacket, now.” Mr. Larabee pointed down the hallway, clearly expecting Ezra to retrieve his jacket without any more protests, and for that as much as anything else, Ezra turned to Nathan instead.

 

“Are we going to be out of doors during our activities this afternoon Nathan?” Nathan shook his head firmly and held up his hands in front of him, palms out.

 

“Oh no, don't go dragging me into this, you want to challenge Chris on something as silly as a jacket, you can do that on your own.” Scowling slightly, because Nathan was no help at all and Chris was still pointing down the hallway inexorably, (though, since the vein in his temple wasn't throbbing yet Ezra knew he wasn't really _that_ irritated) Ezra rolled his eyes one more time for good measure, though as it was at the floor Mr. Larabee didn't notice, and meandered deliberately slowly down the hall, making what should have been a walk that took only a handful of seconds stretch to a good thirty.

 

Still, he supposed if it _were_ to rain, he'd be grateful for the jacket then.

 

That revelation did not keep him from making a meal out of picking between the two jackets available to him, a cobalt blue zip-up sweatshirt type jacket, that was most appropriate for the changing spring weather, or a heavier brown jacket, too warm, but that matched perfectly with the red polo and dark brown trousers he'd chosen for the day. Deciding that he wouldn't have to actually wear it until it started to rain, and could take it off when indoors even if it was raining, Ezra selected the sweatshirt, tucking it under his arm as he left his room, returning to the living room at a more normal pace. Chris jerked his head towards the front door once Ezra was back in his sight, turning and heading out to the truck without another word, and with a tightening in his gut, because he'd clearly miscalculated and the man was actually angry at him, not just peeved, he trudged after his boss.

 

It wasn't until he'd slid into the middle of the truck's cab, Nathan climbing in behind him, that Chris spoke again, “Ezra, you can pick the radio station.”

 

Chris _never_ let anybody but him select music when he was driving. A bet that Ezra, allowedly, had had much to do with creating, over who had control over the radio and CD player on a road trip had wound up with JD controlling it on the way to their destination-pop-punk and alternative-and Josiah controlling it on their way back-folk music, and nothing else-had led to Chris maintaining a dictator like command over the music in any vehicle he was piloting ever since.

 

So either he hadn't been upset with Ezra in the first place, or he no longer was, and the tension that had been building in him started to leak away. Whichever it was, Ezra seized the rare opportunity and, ignoring the presets, as everyone was either country or hard rock, leaned forward to tune it to-hmm, the local jazz channel perhaps, or one of those stations that played a little bit of everything? Yes, that sounded like a good idea, something for everybody. Turning it up a little as a seventies sounding rock song he was unfamiliar with came on, Ezra felt rather satisfied when a minute into the song Nathan's foot was tapping and Mr. Larabee was looking more relaxed than he had been.

 

The rest of the ride went normally, nobody talking much except for when Chris would snarl and curse under his breath at the other drivers on the road, who according to Chris must have bribed their way to a license. The closer to the building they got the more Ezra found his anticipation warring with nerves. As much as he wanted to return, Ezra now found himself worried about facing Mr. Travis like this, his fingers running over his favorite pack of cards in his pocket, the worn smooth cardboard edges soothing him just a little. They pulled into the parking lot at a time Ezra would have called early, but judging from the way both Chris and Nathan jumped out, urging him to hurry, they were late for their meeting with the AD.

 

At least that's what he thought until he realized that they were walking him in the way they would walk in a potential target, Nathan a step behind and his eyes scanning around for danger, Chris on point, and making sure to stay close enough to Ezra to be able to grab him. Not wanting to delay them if his observations were correct he said nothing until they were in the elevator and it was moving. “Forgive me if Ah am wrong, but it seemed to me that our entrance into the building was done in a rather paranoid manner. Is something the matter?” Nathan looked at Chris and Chris rubbed at the bridge of his nose and Ezra took in a shaky breath, for once wishing that his assumption had been incorrect.

 

“Ezra...”, Chris reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, making sure to meet Ezra's eyes with his, and he knew it was meant to be comforting, but instead his whole body tensed, knowing he needed to hear what Chris was going to say, but not sure he wanted to. “Your apartment was broken into late last night, around two in the morning.” Ezra's mouth felt dry and he squeezed his hands into fists. It was no secret to anyone who knew him that Ezra Standish was a very private person, only the team, and his mother when she came to visit had been in his apartment, and even that was a fairly rare event. He'd been on the team almost a year before he'd allowed those he now considered his family inside. The idea that other people had been in his home, picking through his personal belongings... “Nothing was taken, but some evidence left behind made us think it was someone from Blare Technologies, or rather the splinter group of their scientists you were undercover with.”

 

“Evidence? Chris, they left a message.” Chris jerked his head up to glare at Nathan, who glared back, though his voice was steady and sure, “I told him this morning that you would tell him anything he really needed to know. You gonna make a liar out of me already?”

 

“Watch it, Nathan.” Chris was still glaring, but Ezra thought he was also a little surprised at defiance from Nathan of all people, “I was going to tell him. I was just hoping to wait 'til we got to the _conference room_.”

 

“Tell me _what_ , Mistah Larabee?” Chris squeezed his shoulder and sighed, and now Ezra was trying not to panic. “Chris, _what?_ ”

 

“It wasn't a threat, at least not directly, and either way we're gonna keep you safe. They spray painted on your kitchen wall, wrote, “Enjoy your second chance, and,” Chris paused, clearly reluctant to go on, but did anyway, “recommend us to your friends. We'll be watching, The Toxic Sunshine Crew.” Ezra could feel his face screwing up in confusion, not sure he could possibly have heard right.

 

“Excuse me, did you just say 'The Toxic Sunshine Crew'?” Chris nodded and opened his mouth, but Ezra cut him off, unable to help it, “That is the most ludicrous, outlandish-it sounds like the name of one of those bands Mr. Dunne takes Miss Wells to see! Or the villains in a children's show about saving the environment!”

 

“You know,” Nathan said, voice apologetic,“I'm pretty sure I've _heard_ JD talk about a band called Toxic Sunshine.” Ezra gaped at him, and then groaned.

 

“Mah life is some sort of pantomime being played out for the God Josiah is always carrying on about, isn't it?”

 

“No,” Chris said firmly, “It is not. And stupid name or not, we're taking them seriously. Recommend us to your friends, could be a threat to de-age more of the team, and I just plain don't like that bit about them watching you.” Ezra did not care overly much for the idea himself. He'd tried not to reflect on the time period between when he'd been compromised and when the team had gotten him out, and was grateful for the fact that he'd been too drugged up to remember most of it. They'd been talking to him in sing-song voices, cooing at him as they shocked him and stuck needles in his skin, telling him that he'd nearly ruined everything, but instead he would serve as an example. His...transformation itself he could not recollect at all, and from what Nathan had said that was a good thing, the way the medic had all but sagged in relief when he told him so verifying that to an almost frightening degree. “Until we neutralize these bastards you're going to have at least one member of the team with you at all times.”

 

Ezra frowned at that, not so much because he hated the idea, but because he didn't and he should have. Instead when Chris had said that the sick feeling in his mid-section had begun to die down. “Hey, I mean it, we're going to keep you safe.” He squeezed his shoulder again and took a step closer, and Ezra knew that even if he were actually sixteen, he would really be too old for that sort of cosseting, but Chris didn't seem to mind, _none_ of the others seemed to mind, and took a small step of his own towards his team leader. Chris moved the hand from his shoulder to his nape instead and used it to pull Ezra against his side, in a one armed, but tight, hug, “I promise.” The sick feeling eased the rest of the way away. He was still...wary, but it was manageable. The sort of fear that one could use, could rule over, rather than have it rule over you. The elevator opened then and Ezra should have realized that they had been on the elevator too long to be going to their floor, but it didn't keep his face from flushing as the A.D got a eyeful of his top undercover agent clinging to his boss like a infant. He pulled away from Chris immediately, though Mr. Travis's friendly smile, the smile that meant Ezra had done his job correctly, and hadn't nearly killed himself or drained the budget this time, didn't look any different than usual(though his eyes did rake up and down Ezra quickly, and whether the A.D. was reassuring himself that his agent was in one piece, or assuring that it was his agent, he couldn't determine).

 

“Hello boys, we have the floor to ourselves this morning. There are pastries in the conference room, should still be warm if we hurry.” That was an unexpected addition to the usual meeting agenda. Well, a Standish did not turn down a quality invitation and as Travis turned and walked away, motioning for them to follow, he wasn't as hesitant as he had been before. The private conference room on the highest floor of the building, the one used most often for inter-agency meetings between bigwigs, was, not lush, by any stretch of the word, but was far nicer than any other conference room in the building, with big windows that actually opened and tan-colored horizontal blinds, rather than the tacky white vertical blinds that broke constantly that were in the rest of the building's rooms. The floor was the same gray carpet, but without the constant foot traffic it still retained some of its original plush. The rectangular table was real wood, not veneer, and polished to a high shine. Most notably, the chairs were remarkably comfortable, an entirely different breed from what Buck called 'office depot garbage bin specials' in the regular conference rooms.

 

Sinking into one of the chairs that was close to a large and rather delicious smelling box of pastries, a small stack of paper plates and napkins next to it, Ezra started to reach out to open the box, but then decided against it, pulling his hand down into his lap. Time with the rest of the seven had certainly dulled some of his table manners, but he hadn't forgotten them. Chris, next to him, saw his aborted movement and nodded slightly, approving, and Ezra was torn between wanting to open the box now simply because and being ridiculously pleased, at the tiny, almost invisible, bit of praise. Determining that either reaction was equally nonsensical, Ezra waited with not quite as much patience as he feigned for Mr. Travis to sit down and pull out a chocolate confection of some sort for himself, pushing the box his direction when he was down and telling Ezra, “Help yourself, Agent Standish”. It was just a title, but hearing it felt absurdly...right, and the quick nod of thanks he directed at the man was more for that than anything. After a swift, but careful, perusal of the various pastries, Ezra selected a particularly gooey concoction for himself, with apple bits sticking out of it and slices of toasted pecan on top. It was still a bit warm, as Mr. Travis had said, and the first bite revealed a strong hint of caramel, the pastry itself thick, buttery, and soft.

 

Looking to see whether the A.D was eating his all at once, or planning to pick at it throughout the meeting, Ezra hid a smile when he saw the older man frowning in consternation at his pastry as he wiped a small blob of cream off his tie. “That,” he said, when he noticed Ezra watching him, “is why I don't often eat the filled ones. Should have known better. Now,” he straightened in his chair, setting his pastry down, Ezra in the middle of taking another bite, hurried to finish it and do the same, “I would imagine we both have some questions for the other, but there are a few things I'd like to reassure you on first. However long it takes us to figure this out, you are an ATF agent. Your place here is safe. As far as the majority of this organization is concerned, once we stretch out the usual vacation time, you're going to be on a prolonged medical leave. Your salary will continue to be deposited for the next six months, your insurance covers that, and I'll see what I can do after that. Hopefully the ATF will have you back in our ranks sooner rather than later, but either way that's not something you have to worry about.”

 

“Thank you, sah.” There would certainly be an eventual time limit-if he were stuck like this for a year or two or longer?-but simply knowing Travis had been inclined to arrange a cover for him showed that the man was in his corner. What he was supposed to do about rent and other bills for his apartment had been a fresh concern that morning, finally not beaten out by other more pressing matters. He would eventually, if this were not reversible, have to decide whether to retain his apartment or allow the lease to lapse, but Travis had just secured it so he wouldn't have to dip into his savings while he made that decision. “Ah appreciate the trouble you went to.”

 

Of course, his words also made it obvious that Ezra would not be returning to work once his vacation was up, at least not in any official capacity, and judging from the way neither Chris or Nathan were acting surprised, this was not a revelation. Yet, every time he'd mentioned going back to work-well, actually now that he thought about it properly, they hadn't been saying he would be, had they? They'd been giving him throw-away answers instead. Meaningless assurances, without every actually promising anything. Or really, Mr. Larabee had, and Mr. Sanchez once, it was not fair to malign Nathan merely because he was in the room. Why? Simply to appease him? To make him easier to deal with?

 

The worst part was that he hadn't seen through it. He, Ezra Standish, had been...good Lord, he had been _conned._ By _Mr. Larabee._

 

If he hadn't been so offended he might have been impressed. Mr. Larabee was quite adept at fooling members of the criminal underworld, yet Ezra had not expected the man to be able to fool him.

 

It...stung. Both that he had been able to mislead him, and that he'd been willing to.

 

Forcing himself to focus on the meeting at hand, he tuned back in in time to hear Mr. Travis say, “and, after hearing about the identity you established for yourself, and introduced to a number of citizens,” the A.D paused here, just long enough to raise an eyebrow, and Ezra cringed internally as he realized Mr. Travis knew about his misadventure, “I took the liberty of establishing it officially. You are now Ezekiel James Standish, younger half-brother to Agent Ezra Standish. As he often has to be gone, due to the nature of his work, partial custody of young Ezekiel, or, you, was granted to Agent Christopher Larabee. There is a skeleton history in here along with some of your documentation, though I will leave you to fill in most of the details.” A thin folder was pushed across to Ezra, who despite his irritation at Chris, gained a spark of mischief in his eyes at hearing he got to author his own history. Travis, discerning it handily, kept his hand on the folder when Ezra reached for it, making sure to look him in the eye as he said plainly, “Nothing too bizarre, Standish.”

 

Affecting a look of earnest innocence, Ezra said, “Ah assure you Mistah Travis, Ah have every intention of treating this with the utmost seriousness, most especially encompassing the details of mah covah story.”

 

“Mmm.” Judging by the way the A.D. was peering at him over his reading glasses he was not entirely confident in this. Well, Ezra had always considered him to be a man of formidable intelligence. He released the folder, and then took similar looking folders off the small stack in front of him and passed one each to Chris and Nathan. Inspecting his, Ezra noticed quickly that it was missing the one thing he definitely expected to find-an ID. Frowning he sorted through it again-a sheet listing pertinent information on his new identity, a medical insurance card for an ATF dependent, a high school diploma and accompanying documentation-thank the good Lord and Mr. Travis for that, it hadn't even occurred to him that he might have to worry about attending school-, but no ID.

 

“Ezra.” Somewhat unwilling Ezra slowly dragged his eyes over to Chris, still a little resentful that Chris hadn't simply told him he would not be returning to work.

 

They would soon realize that the job would be increasingly burdensome a member short, and then-cutting that thought short, Ezra told himself that that would _not_ be the outcome. He would find a way to prove himself still a credit to the team, could perhaps fulfill some of the roles of his employment from the security of the ranch. Surely, there could be no objection to that.

 

“Yes, Mistah Larabee?” Chris maneuvered his folder so that Ezra could see the inside-see, to his puzzlement that his ID was contained inside. In fact, there were two-ah.

 

Ostensibly, it was up to Mr. Larabee whether or not Ezra was permitted to have a regular identification card or a driver's license and that rankled. A small voice in his head that sounded disconcertingly like Mr. Sanchez informed him that he reaped what he sowed and he had to work at keeping a grimace off of his face. “We'll talk about what you have to do to earn the license tonight. For now you can use this one.” Chris pushed the ordinary ID card towards Ezra, raising an eyebrow when he made no move to take it, instead mulishly setting his jaw. “Ezra...”

 

It was _unfair._ Chris had already reprimanded him for his escapade and said it was over and done with. “That is _unfair_. You have already,” He darted a quick look at the A.D., who was pretending to look over some of the papers in front of him, but clearly listening to every word they were saying, and lowered his voice to a whisper for the rest of the sentence, “chastised me. You _promised_ that Ah would no longah be in disgrace when-”, Chris interrupted here, though Ezra kept talking over him, getting louder as he did so.

 

“You were in trouble, not _disgraced._ ” “it was ovah, but Ah clearly am.”

 

He finished succinctly, and firmly, with, “Making you, sah, a _liar_.”, and a glower that should have burned a hole right through Mr. Larabee. It was only after, as he sat in a room so silent that you could have heard a pin drop, that he truly realized just what he had said, and to whom he had said it. Still, even as dread ran though him, settling deep in the pit of his stomach, he refused to drop his chin, or show any sign that he regretted his words. Because, he did not.

 

Perhaps he regretted saying them out loud when the man was sitting right next to him, but not enough to take it back, even as Chris's narrowed-eye glare pinned him where he sat, the man's jaw tightening as the vein in his temple started to throb at a frankly alarming tempo. “... _What did you say to me?”_

 

This was his one opportunity to apologize, plead temporary insanity, and get away with his hide intact, and Ezra knew it. Yet, his heart racing, feeling almost unable to stop himself, Ezra raised his head, and said, voice scornful, “You, sah, are a  _liar._ ”

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Nathan was frozen in a cringe after Ezra vehemently repeated his statement, not quite believing his gall. You just _didn't_ talk to Chris like that. You _didn't._ Even Vin wouldn't-well, he might have dared, but it wouldn't end well. It wasn't until after a quiet and furious, “Excuse us, sir,” to the A.D from Chris, the man standing and pulling Ezra with him and towards the door by the scruff of his neck that Nathan's brain rebooted. With a swallow and quick nod at the director, he stood and followed them out.

 

Chris was too mad, way too mad to handle Ezra.

 

And, much as long habit made it hard for Nathan to admit it, Ezra was kind of right.

 

Had chosen the world's worst way to defend his point, been insubordinate and disrespectful in front of the director, but that didn't keep him from being right. From what he understood, Chris had told him a whooping meant it was over, and it certainly should have meant that. Having to earn his license back didn't seem like over to Nathan, and obviously, not to Ezra either. Right now, when the kid was both so unsure and so dependent on them, they needed to be reliable, to give him something steady to depend on. So far that had been Chris, now though, Nathan wasn't sure what was going to happen. Stepping out into the lobby, he saw that Chris had deposited Ezra in a row of padded chairs along the far wall, his teammate looking like he wasn't sure whether to be angry or scared. Chris himself, was pacing back and forth about ten feet away from him, still silent and steaming mad. Waiting a few more moments, he had his own healthy respect of Chris's temper after all, Nathan stepped forward and said quietly, “Chris, I need to talk to you.”

 

Chris glanced at him without stopping his pacing, snapping, “Think it can wait.”

 

Nathan shook his head firmly, and, voice more insistent now, said, “No. It can't.”

 

With a growl of frustration, Chris turned to walk over to him, stopping to point at Ezra and say, each word distinct, “Don't. Move.”, before they both moved back into the conference room. Staying by the doors, he turned to Nathan, and, voice strained, said, “What?”

 

“First off, you can't deal with him when you're this angry, Chris. S-”

 

Chris opened his mouth and cut him off before he could finish his second point, “Why the hell do you think I sat him down and walked away?”

 

“Second, well, why aren't you giving him his license? You told him when this first started he'd get one, and you did tell him he wasn't in trouble anymore.” Nathan wasn't entirely sure a teenage Ezra _needed_ a license-or really, that _they_ needed Ezra to have a license-but he knew enough about adolescent psychology in general and about Ezra in particular to know he was taking this like a betrayal.

 

“Dammit, I'm going to give it to him! I just wanted to talk to him first, and make it clear that's it's just a license to drive and not a license to go do whatever the hell he wants, that there are certain rules he has to agree to follow to get the license!” Chris's hands flew up above his head as he talked and he paced away from Nathan, before whirling around and glaring right in the medic's face. Nathan for his part, found himself having to tamp down on his own temper, because if that was what he'd meant he couldn't have picked a worse way to say it.

 

He might not be a liar, but for the moment he'd been talking to Ezra at least, he'd been a damned fool.

 

“Maybe if you'd told him it was just some damn rules instead of leaving it to his imagination he wouldn't have panicked. Chris, you said he had to _earn_ it.” He didn't try and keep the annoyance out of his tone, “It's _Ezra_ -who knows what he was thinking, what he thought you meant. He was probably expecting months of chores on top of the tanning he already got.”

 

“I wouldn't do that to him.” Chris snapped, “And maybe I screwed up explaining it, but that doesn't mean he just gets to say whatever he wants. He could have asked me instead of throwing a fit like a-” Chris cut himself off, and in the pause afterwards his eyes slowly closed.

 

“Except, he _is_ a kid right now. Obviously, he shouldn't have talked to you like that, it isn't okay, but...” Nathan shook his head, not sure what else to say.

 

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Travis's voice was calm, but solid, brooking no argument, and both men turned to look at him, knowing an order when they heard it. “I think there is one thing you are _both_ forgetting, and that is just how hard the loss of his independence has hit that young man. Every facet of his life has been disrupted and he is unable to do anything about it. All his control has been taken away-” He held up a hand to cut off Chris before the man's mouth was half open, “I'm not saying that he doesn't need the supervision or precautions you've taken, I'd say that stunt he pulled made that more than obvious. That doesn't change the fact that he needs to know what is going on, needs to know what he is told is the truth, because he is no longer in a position to determine those things for himself, or able to do something about it if he is misled. He needs to know that when his team leader and _guardian_ speaks to him it is the truth.” Chris's mouth tightened in protest, Nathan almost sure he was going to say something he shouldn't, but he just stood and listened to Travis. Most people wouldn't have dared to dress Chris down, and the man wouldn't have tolerated it from the majority of those who would, but he respected the A.D. in a way he didn't most people who weren't on Team 7, and Nathan could see now that he was actually listening to the man's words.

 

“Evie always has said that half a child's tantrums are because they feel helpless and overwhelmed, and I don't think it takes a genius to figure out how trapped he must feel. And if children who've never known independence react like that, imagine how much more frightening it would be for someone who had that autonomy and then lost it. Frankly, Larabee, if I'd known you told him he was getting a license for sure, and that you'd already finished dealing with the jeep incident, I would have put both the license and the regular ID in Standish's folder and simply informed you he had them. That wouldn't have kept you from setting rules, or taking away the license if broke them. I don't entirely appreciate you asking me to keep them separate without going into details. As it is, I think you could have done a much better job of handling the situation if you'd taken some time to think, and try and put yourself in Standish's shoes.”

 

“You're right,” Chris sounded slightly pained and more than a little stiff as he admitted it, “I've been trying too hard to get things set into some kind of normal, treating Ezra as much like a regular kid as I can. When it can't be, and he's not.”

 

“No.”, Travis said, voice calm but serious, “he's not. So go and fix it.” Chris nodded, and turned around, walking slowly but determinedly into the other room. Nathan, suddenly feeling a bit like a spare part, looked after him for a long moment. It wasn't that he didn't trust Chris, knew that as stubborn as he could be once he acknowledged he was in the wrong he'd work to fix it, but he still wanted to be out there. Just in case.

 

“So, Agent Jackson, I wanted to talk to you about the medical aspects of this situation. Have you looked into finding a doctor for Ezra yet?” 

 

Shaking his head to bring himself back to the situation as he half heard what the A.D was saying, Nathan said, “I'm sorry, sir, what were you asking?”

 

“I wanted to talk to you about Ezra's medical situation, ask some questions. Let's go sit down, give those two some more privacy.” Travis was already moving over to reclaim his seat and Nathan followed, mind still mostly on the lobby even as he began thinking over the most pertinent information that the A.D would want.

 

*.*.*.*.*

 

Chris bit back a curse as he stepped into the lobby and saw Ezra immediately straighten up from where he'd been half hugging his legs, posture picture perfect so quick he could have almost thought he'd imagined it, and miserable face switched for a stony mask. Yeah, he'd screwed this one up. He walked over, and moved so he was in a half crouch in front of Ezra, not wanting to loom over him just this once, who couldn't quite hide his wariness behind the mask he was wearing. “Look, I didn't mean that you were gonna have to do anything crazy or have to do a bunch of chores to get your license. I just have some rules I needed you to agree to before I'm willing to hand it over, and I wanted to do that tonight, once we were home. That's all.” He had to stop a sigh of relief as, while still stiff and miserable, Ezra suddenly became a lot easier to read as the boy studied him, clearly trying to determine whether he meant it or not.

 

“That statement bears very little resemblance to your previous one. Ah would not have reacted so if Ah'd understood.” Half an angry protest and have a defensive apology, and Chris nodded.

 

“I had that pointed out to me. You're not in trouble for getting upset, and I'm not mad at you.” Ezra looked utterly unbelieving for a split second, and Chris just carried on. Some things you had to show someone. “That said-I _don't_ like being called a liar, and I don't recommend you do it again. Understood?” 

 

“Yes sah. Ah am sorry.” It was said almost shyly, in a voice that made Ezra sound far younger than even sixteen and Chris had to smile.

 

“Yeah, well...me too.” The look of disbelief on Ezra's face was almost comical, except for the fact that it made Chris feel guilty. It only increased as he pulled the license out out of his pocket and handed it to him. “Here. I trust you not to drive until we go over the rules.”

 

“Thank yah, Chris.” The hesitant smile grew quickly to almost blinding proportions as Ezra looked at the license, pulling out his wallet and putting it in the proper sleeve, and he wasn't entirely sure he'd earned even the tamped down version the boy turned on him after he'd slid his wallet back in his pocket.

 

“You're welcome. You ready to go back in, start the debrief?” A faint blush stained Ezra's cheeks at that, and Chris raised a questioning eyebrow, waiting a moment to see if he would decide to talk.

 

“...Ah acted like a histrionic fool in front of A.D Travis. Ah'm not sure Ah can bear the embarrassment...” Chris's eyebrow rose even higher at that. Yes, Ezra was not an ordinary sixteen year old, but moments like that pointed out that he wasn't himself either. Adult Ezra might have thought that, but he never would have said it out loud, particularly the last bit.

 

“Ezra, it was me he thought was being a jackass, not you.” The disbelieving look was back, though this time Ezra didn't try and hide it, instead levering it at Chris like it was a weapon.

 

“Mistah Larabee, at the very least, Ah'm sure he thought it was both of us.” Chris couldn't help it, he snorted out loud, as, well he had a feeling Travis was giving Ezra a bit more leeway than normal right now, under normal circumstances he was sure Ezra would be a hundred percent right.

 

“We can agree to disagree on that, either way, we should probably head back in unless we want to be here all day.” Ezra nodded and stood up, but waited for Chris to take the lead, which he did, though he would have preferred to have the boy in front of him, where he could keep an eye on him. They walked in to the conference room and were a bit surprised to hear Nathan chuckling quietly as the A.D appeared to be telling a tale that had him fairly animated. Chris cleared his throat, and they both turned towards him, still smiling.

 

“Hammered everything out I see, lets get this next part finished then.” As they were retaking their seats, Chris hiding a smirk as he saw Ezra quickly take a bite from his half eaten pastry, Travis shared, “I was telling Nathan about some of the things my Steven got up to when he was a teenager. He was a good boy, but there were times he made Evie and me about pull our hair out.” There was an indulgent, slightly melancholy look on the man's face, and for a second Chris's mind flashed to his own mischievous boy, who had never gotten to be a teenager, but he pushed it away, knowing he needed to focus on Ezra right now.

 

“You don't know anyone who has a party boat, do you?” Nathan asked Ezra in mock worry-mostly mock worry.

 

“Now that you mention it...”, the sly grin was back on Ezra's face and while Chris groaned quietly, because he doubted the undercover agent was kidding, he was more than glad to see it.

 

“Alright boys, lets get this meeting back on track. Ezra, do you have any questions for me?”

 

“Not at this moment, sah, though some may occur to me latah.”

 

Travis nodded, “That's fine, as long as you let me know in advance I'll be happy to set some time aside and answer any you do have. For now, lets get started on the debrief-I will still be expecting a report in the next week.”

 

Ezra straightened at that, going into official mode with what seemed to be relief, “Yes, sah. As you know, Ah first approached Dr. Murik at the beginning of March, and was able to secure mahself a place with them by mid April. For the first several weeks Ah saw nothing out of the ordinary, but by the beginning of May Ah was being trusted enough to come into the rooms where they were doing their experiments, mostly on juvenile pigs-or what Ah took to be juvenile pigs, now Ah wondah...”, Ezra trailed off, but shook himself out of it a second later. “A few days before Ah was discovered Ah was allowed the...privilege of watching an elderly dog regain puppy hood. Ah was the only one who seemed disturbed by the amount of pain it caused, or how skittish the creature was afterwards, and Ah did mah best to hide it.” Why the hell hadn't Ezra contacted him the day that happened? ...Because he knew perfectly well Chris would have ordered him out that very hour, regardless of what happened to the case. Neither Travis or Nathan looked very happy either, and Chris frowned outright as Ezra said, slightly defensive, “It was four days befah our next contact was arranged, and they were watching me quiet closely outside mah 'weekly visits to Grandmothah'.” Chris didn't say anything, but he didn't stop frowning either. 

 

“Ah believe they were expecting me to want the treatment fah mah imaginary grandmothah, nevah mind that Ah wouldn't inflict this on mah worst enemy. They did not seem to be shipping or receiving what they were using in their experiments, there were no trucks leaving or coming on a regular basis, only the vehicles of the few employees trusted enough to live off site, leading me to believe it was produced in their facility. Ah nevah saw that room howevah, leaving me unable to confirm this, and,” Ezra hesitated, Chris's already careful focus narrowing to a laser fine point, “Ah believe it was mah searching through the part of the facility that Ah believe it may be in that led to mah discovery as an agent.” He had to bite his tongue, because they'd talked about that, the last time Ezra had checked in, and Chris had told him _no._ Ezra hadn't told him he'd seen a dog de-aged, that he'd kept to himself, but he had told Chris he thought he could locate where the drugs they'd been looking for were being produced, and Chris had told him _no._ That under no circumstances was he to do that, to risk either himself or the case by pushing too far too fast. A noise must have come from him anyway and Chris narrowed his eyes a little as Ezra glanced at him guiltily. He gave orders for a reason, dammit, and choosing not to follow them for any reason other than that _following_ the order could cause you bodily harm was not okay. It never had been, and it never would be. 

 

He didn't give orders just to hear himself talk, he did it to protect the team. The sooner they all figured that out, the better off everybody would be.

 

“Ah'm afraid Ah don't remembah much aftah that, though from the little Ah do remembah, Ah believe they kept me drugged fah some time. Ah do not know if the raid on their base coincided with them administering the de-aging drug to mah person on purpose, or if it was merely luck of the draw.” His guilt suddenly palpable, Ezra stated apologetically, “Ah'm afraid any evidence Ah'd compiled since mah last contact with Mistah Larabee was lost to me at that point.”

 

“That's more than a little understandable. Any time there is a risk of you being compromised or hurt on a mission, your job is to get yourself out safe and forget the rest. By now I'd think that would be more than clear, Agent Standish.” Travis waited for a grudging nod, then continued on, “Alright, I have a few questions for you. What do you think their purpose is, or do they have one besides wreaking havoc?”

 

“Well, sah, Ah would say...”

 

*.*.*.*.*

 

Ezra looked back and forth between Buck and JD's puppy faces, not sure it was possible to pick one over the other. Yes, they were making a farce of it, but both men were sensitive in their own way-though woe behold you if you acknowledged it-, and he had no desire to slight either or injure their feelings. “Nathan, what are mah choices of activity again?”

 

“The aquarium, the science museum, or the art museum, and we'll get lunch somewhere first.” Nathan had been hoping to take Josiah with them as the second member of the team Chris was insisting he have with him in public now, Ezra knew, but the profiler had been requested by Team 8 to help them on trying to figure out how to best approach a highly paranoid but necessary informant, and would be busy for the rest of the afternoon. Vin had restated his intention to take him for a ride, tomorrow now, and Buck and JD had both insisted this meant he had to pick one of them to take along today. Or rather, each was insisting that he take them, and not the other one.

 

“Hoss, you gotta pick the aquarium and me, the restaurant there has shows where ladies swim in mermaid costumes. _Mermaid costumes.”_ Inching backwards, out of potential range for any drool, Ezra had to admit, if he did not have to be accompanied by Buck and his overenthusiasm for such things, such a show was not an unappealing idea. 

 

“Buck, that's _gross,_ ” JD said, disgusted, “That's not what those shows are for, that's a family restaurant.”

 

“Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that kid,” Buck shook his head in despair at JD's apparent naivety.

 

“Whatever. I'll do whatever you want to do Ezra, and I promise not to drool on your food if you do want to see the mermaid show.” Buck went to smack JD upside the head and he dodged with a smirk, sticking out as his tongue at the taller man.

 

Considering for another moment, as JD and Buck jokingly wrestled and smacked back and forth at each other, Ezra decided based on who he thought would like his actual choice best. “Ah pick JD, and we're going to attend the science museum.”

 

“Awesome! Have you seen their prehistoric exhibit? They've got some great stuff, and you can even watch people working on fossils in their lab.” JD was practically bouncing on his toes now and Buck, Ezra noticed with a sliver of relief, didn't seem upset at all, was just watching him indulgently.

 

“Ah have not, haven't actually visited it at all, whereas Ah've been to the aquarium once and the art museum several times. That's why Ah selected it, as Ah've heard a trip is more than worthwhile.”

 

“It totally is. There's a bunch of cool stuff about outer space, and they've got mummies and everything.”

 

Nathan stood up and cleared his throat, waiting expectantly for them to turn to him. “I don't know about you two, but I'm hungry, so JD get what you need and let's go.”

 

JD checked his pockets for keys, cell-phone and wallet, cheerfully announcing, “I'm good to go!”, when he found them where he expected. As they began to walk out of the office Ezra found himself a little annoyed that no one made JD drag a coat around with him, as he had been doing with his sweatshirt all morning.

 

Then JD's Red Sox windbreaker hit him in the back of his head, Buck calling out, “So you don't melt!”, JD pulling it off his head with an exasperated sigh but not commenting, and the two youngest members of the team exchanged looks as they headed for the elevator-did no one realize they were going to be  _ inside? _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Orin frowned down at the file his boss, a man he rarely saw, settled on his desk, before he settled his lanky body in the chair across from Orin's. “There have been three other law enforcement agencies targeted that we know of so far. Standish is the only reversal, someone who was on the inside when he was attacked rather than being sought out.”

“Was this information known when the assignment was passed to my men?” He had enough experience keeping his voice level in tense situations that he managed not to let on to the icy fury that was clawing at his gut-fury that he hoped wasn't directed at a man he'd always respected since their early days together, even if he didn't always agree with his decisions-, but it was a close thing. His people dealt with guns, with drug and alcohol smuggling, they weren't meant to deal with human experimentation.

“Not to me.” Alex Monroe sighed, “Apparently it was need to know information, they didn't want to cause a panic.”

“With all due respect, sir, I'm still trying to figure out how you knew about Standish. There wasn't exactly a protocol on who to report this to, so I didn't.” Monroe's black eyebrows scrunched together slightly, as though he wasn't sure if he approved or disapproved of that, but either way Orin knew it had been the right decision. It hadn't been necessary for establishing his cover, and without knowing what the response would be it could have put Ezra in danger.

“My boss told me. I'm assuming his information was passed on by the FBI, and that they may have had their own eyes on the facility in addition to our joint operation.”

He said nothing for a moment, wanting to be sure he'd heard and understood correctly, and when nothing more was forthcoming said, “The president? Not an emissary?”

“They flew me and the heads of several other agencies to the capital last night for a meeting, and then flew me here this morning. This is serious. They seem to be targeting law enforcement right now, but there was also an attempt made against against a high-profile neurologist, and the wide spread of the attacks implies there are many factions of this nameless group, though so far the only two facilities found are the one here and the one in Brooklyn. According to the report from the facility there they were experimenting with oral versions of the treatment-which if they were to succeed, would make it possible to destabilize our countries infrastructure pretty quickly.”

Orin drew in a breath, “Good Lord, they could contaminate water sources.” Monroe just nodded, face grim. “Oh, and we have a name,” the other man straightened in his chair, attentive, “Agent Standish's apartment was broken into last night,” surprise flitted over Alex's face for just a moment, “and a message signed The Toxic Sunshine Crew was left.”

“The Toxic-that sounds like the name of a band my granddaughter would listen to. Are we sure it was actually them?” There was a level of skepticism in his voice that Orin probably would have shared if he hadn't examined the scene himself.

“The message they left made it more than obvious-told him to enjoy his second chance.” Orin sighed, “Problem there was the boy was already enjoying one.”

Monroe's lips pursed. "As much good as he's been doing for us I think you've finally convinced me he shouldn't have had to have one in the first place."

"Took you long enough." Orin had had his own doubts about Standish, but they'd quickly moved from worries about a dirty cop in their midst to worrying that the false accusations had damaged the man's ability to truly be part of a team, and he'd been proven wrong there. Evie still got a 'told you so' hint to her smile when they saw the boys together. Monroe grunted, and then flipped open the file.

"Agencies effected are listed, names and identities are being redacted for the moment, but the dates and ages, both original and current are listed. So far there have been no medical problems or indications that they'll develop in the future, though behavior is reported to match closer to their physical ages than chronological. The first incidents that we know about occurred over a month ago, and there have been at least three successful attempts since then, including Agent Standish. That there are likely incidents going unreported would be wholly unsurprising, as I'm sure you know.” A subtle reprimand, probably for not at least reporting it unofficially to Alex himself, but he'd done what seemed best at the time, and would stand by that.

Still, he nodded and offered, “I can see how not knowing the true scope of the situation would be detrimental. Is there an official approach we are expected to take with this? Standish is doing as well as can be expected, and at the moment he's officially on vacation, and then sick leave.”

Monroe shook his head, a slightly disgusted sigh leaving him before he spoke, “This has everyone running around like chickens with their heads cut off, but for the moment the main idea is to keep it contained, they don't want to start a panic. The head of NCIS offered her medical examiner to do more complete medical work-ups, start collecting relevant data to compare and see if there's anything that might allow us to reverse what's been done. I should tell you there have been suggestions made to gather up those affected and house them together, under government appointed supervision. I don't think anything will come of that, the one person in the meeting who didn't shout that idea down, Wuntch, was only there in place of the NY commissioner, but I thought you should know.”

“Nothing better come of it, these citizens have committed no crime, they aren't contagious.” Orin heard the sharpness in his voice, and didn't bother trying to dial it back. Those who protected their country, in whatever respect, deserved protection in return, and its most vulnerable citizens, its children, deserved that as well, and at the moment these people were both. His agent was both, and he'd be damned before he let the boy be hauled off to be examined like a bug or whatever else had been behind that plan.

“I agree, but you know how these things can go. Probably, it will go one of two ways, as long as their are no incidents and someone steps up as guardian they'll leave them where they are, but accept no responsibility for their welfare, advocate no funds, or they'll be an entire department dedicated to their welfare by the end of the fiscal quarter, full of ideas that are good in theory but useless in reality and rules that keep the people who want to help from actually doing so.”

Orin laughed, “So, like usual then, sir.”

“Exactly.” Monroe pushed back from the desk, climbing steadily to his feet, Orin “Oh, and it really is a small world. I'm sure you remember recommending an old friend for the NY ATF office about ten years ago?” Orin's face screwed up for a moment in thought then relaxed as the answer came to him.

“Raymond Holt? Would've made a fine team leader, but he was loyal to the NYPD even when they weren't loyal to him. I'd heard he finally got assigned a precinct a few years ago. One of his people was attacked?”

“Four of them, and he's taken responsibility.” Monroe's voice was dry, a tinge of humor in it, but while the idea of a man as staid as Raymond Holt taking care of four teenagers would have been amusing under normal circumstances, that four more people had had their lives and futures rearranged for an unknown and possibly sinister purpose, wasn't funny at all.

Still, he had to admit how the man would react to any of his squad pulling something like Standish had would probably be worth watching.

“Young people tend to need to be around other young people. With you already knowing Captain Holt reaching out at some point doesn't seem inappropriate.” Orin had to smile now, surprised that the reserved man would suggest such a thing, but liking that it implied he was emotionally involved. He was a powerful ally if they had him in their corner, and Orin thought they did. That it was a good suggestion didn't hurt at all either.

“I may just do that. Thank you for coming in person, Director Monroe.”

“You're welcome, A.D Travis. I figured this conversation would be surreal enough in person without attempting it over the phone.” They shook hands and Orin walked around his desk, going as far as the door with the other man. Once he'd disappeared into the stairwell(he'd told Orin once that he wasn't fond of working out, or of elevators, and so he always took the stairs, but 8 floors each way seemed a little much) Orin sagged a little as he turned to walk back to his desk. He'd had stressful, beyond belief, weeks before, it was one of the hazards of the job, but this week was adding new layers to both the idea of 'stress' and 'beyond belief'. Sinking into his chair Orin allowed himself to just sit for a minute, doing and thinking about nothing. A minute was a regrettably short amount of time, but it was all Orin had to spare, and soon he was pulling the file that had been left on his desk towards him and flipping it around, the other hand reaching for his office phone and pressing in the long ago memorized extension to Larabee's office. Chris would need to know about this, the sooner the better.

Four. Imagining for a second what it would have been like if more than half of his best team had been de-aged rather than just Ezra, Orin shook his head. He wished Raymond luck.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

“Captain, this is boooooooringggggg.” Raymond didn't even look up from his newspaper. After three weeks with his house guests he was even better at tuning his most troublesome detective out than previous experience had rendered him.

In that same space Kevin had threatened to return to Paris three times, according to his neighbor Rosa had traumatized her 12 year old, he'd caught Jake attempting to make his way into the precinct on four separate occasions, and Amy had managed to ruin a baking dish and make the entire house smell like a mixture of eggs and blue cheese. Twice.

Gina was attempting to create a following from among the neighborhood children, and succeeding with a disturbing, thought not at all surprising, alacrity.

“Captainnnnn.” The young man who finally looked the same age as he'd always acted, about thirteen, slumped his hip against the table as Raymond turned the page of his paper, the jostling making his lips thin with an altogether unbecoming show of temper. He waited a moment before speaking, wanting to be nothing but calm when he did, then slowly looking up over the top of the paper.

“Jacob, I told you, we will leave when I am done with my paper. Unless you persist in whining, in which case, you will stay here.”

“What?” He straightened immediately, walking backwards away from the table waving, “Nope, never mind, I'm good, I can totalllllly be patient, totally. You take your time, enjoy your paper and keeping current on world events, that's the way to be.”

“Thank you. I'll do that.” Waiting until the boy had left the room, walking backwards until he hit the doorway, Raymond allowed himself a small smile before returning to the last section of his paper.

 

*.*.*.*.*

 

“I still think it stinks that we don't get to go to school,” Amy grumbled, slumping onto the window seat in the large guest room the girls had been given, a binder with an unknown purpose clutched to her chest. “I could totally get into Wilton Prep with my hands tied behind my back-and they teach Latin!”

“Girl, I totally know,” Gina said, rolling over on her bed to face Amy without ever taking her eyes off her phone, “My takeover of generation Z would be way ahead of schedule if I could just get out and mingle with my people. But the captain just doesn't understand that they _need_ my guidance.”

“You already have the Nickelson kids bringing you the dessert out of their lunches every day-there are five of them, how many pudding cups do you need?” Amy's face was more than a bit frustrated, voice snappish.

Eyebrow raising delicately, Gina finally moved her eyes away from her phone to look at Amy reproachfully, “I was sympathizing with your lame self, despite the difficulty of that task, but that is now over forever. And pudding cups are excellent for bribing Jake to do anything, fyi, there is always a method to my madness.” Gina tapped her temple with her last comment, then rolled her hand out with a flourish.

Amy groaned in frustration, and shook her head as she spoke, “I'm sorry Gina, it's just that I can't even get Captain Holt or Kevin to look at this binder-and ordinarily the captain loves my binders!”

Rosa groaned from where she'd been trimming her nails with a pocket knife on the top bunk, rolling over and dropping off of it neatly to land on her feet, “That's the third stupid binder about why you should go back to school you've made, that's why.”

“Oh, Amy, honey” Gina reproached, sitting up on the bed, and abandoning her phone for the moment, “really? You know, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Your outcome doesn't look good.”

“Hah, Amy's nuts.” Rosa grinned as she said it, Amy shooting first her and then Gina a death glare.

“Gina, you took one psych class, you're not qualified to diagnose anybody! Besides, I am way saner than both of you, by miles. In fact I am probably the sanest out of the whole squad! Out of the whole precinct!”

“Yeah. Sure you are.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself to make it through the day, boo.” Shoving the binder onto the seat, Amy jumped to her feet and started heading out of the room, head held high and trying to maintain her dignity.

“Amy, Amy, Amy, you keep sneaking off for stress cigarettes and you're going to get caught.” Gina's voice was sing-song, and definitely delighted by the possibility she mentioned even as she shook her head despairingly.

“Wait, what? No way you're being that dumb.” Rosa had moved over and was now blocking Amy from leaving with her arms crossed over her chest. “That was a stupid habit when you were an adult, you can't seriously be getting yourself addicted all over again.”

“No. No!” Amy's voice got slightly high pitched, and Rosa deepened her glare, “I am not doing that, I am not doing anything remotely like that. I just need to go outside for awhile. And be alone. That's it, I need alone time. By myself. Outside. Excuse me.” She brushed past a definitely not buying it Rosa, who turned to let her glare follow her out of the room.

“If it didn't go against every fiber of my being I'd tell right now.”

“Samesies.” Gina was once again sprawled on her bed, typing away madly on her phone, her response coming out distracted, and with a roll of her eyes Rosa left the room, figuring she might as well get her boots on so they could go to the stupid classic car show Jake was so excited about.

 

*.*.*.*.*

 

Jake sighed as he looked out the window at the yard, everything still glistening invitingly. He wasn't supposed to go outside because it had been raining, and there was nothing good on TV and he'd already read the comics he had bought last week, and there was _nothing_ to do. 

He'd told Kevin earlier that he wouldn't get muddy, that he _promised_ , but he'd just looked amused and then said, “While, I'm sure it wouldn't be intentional, I'm also sure it would happen. You can find something to entertain yourself with inside until we depart.” And, okay maybe he had a point, because the back deck was pretty small and maybe it would be kind of hard to stay on it and not go out in the grass, and also maybe both he and Rosa had wound up covered in dirt and grass stains the last time they were supposed to go somewhere, but it hadn't been him who started that wrestling match. Not on purpose anyway. Even at fifteen Rosa was terrifying. 

Jake scowled to himself, wondering again why he and Amy had wound up thirteen, and Gina and Rosa were two years older-something Gina had been rubbing in liberally, calling him her 'lil' bro' and 'junior' and even 'squirt'. Squirt! They were  _supposed_ to be the same age, they always had been.

Looking outside longingly again, Jake wondered if it would be worth the scolding, especially since he did know it wouldn't be much longer now before they'd leave. But, Kevin had said that forever ago, even back before Holt had said that they could go when he finished his paper, something that took forever in and of itself, and he was  _soooo_ bored. 

Sudden movement on the other side of the yard caught his attention, and Jake's eyes narrowed as he saw the sensible coat swish it's way inbetween the decorative hedge and the neighbor's fence. What was Amy up to? Sure, Kevin hadn't told her not to go outside, but she'd heard him say it to Jake and Amy did not break rules-breaking rules made Amy sweat and talk too fast, and just in general have a major freak out. Something big was going down. This was a major, grade-A, mystery.

And Jake was a detective. Even if at the moment he looked more like one of the Hardy Boys then one of New York's finest.

Oh, or one of the kids from Ghostwriter! That show had totally been his and Gina's jam. Only Jake could solve crimes without needing a helpful ghost friend. Not that he wouldn't definitely be 100% down with having a helpful ghost friend.

Looking over his shoulder to make sure anyone who might stop him wasn't looking Jake tried to walk naturally through the den and into the kitchen, even letting out a bored sigh for the benefit of Holt in the dining room as he walked by the doorway, and then, after waiting a second on the other side of it, snuck a peak in. It looked like Holt was on the last section of the paper, which meant he had less than five minutes to complete his mission, but he'd done more with less. Making his way over to the sliding door Jake realized his shoes were by the front door, and deciding there was no time he slipped his socks off so they wouldn't get soaked and tucked them hastily into his pocket. The glass door had been left open to let in a breeze(or really, to get rid of the lingering smell of Amy's last cooking attempt-only she'd cried when it came out terribly, which nobody had expected, because Amy got flustered and overwhelmed, or got super competitive and over confident, but she didn't  _cry_ , so no one was mentioning the occasional whiffs of funkiness), but the screen was shut and Jake very carefully, pausing intermittently to listen for approaching footsteps, or the captain getting up from his chair, eased it open, and stepping out, eased it shut, only letting out the breath he was holding when it was shut. 

Crouching he made his way stealthily over the deck and onto the grass, keeping an eye out for detection either from behind or ahead, moving until he was almost on the other side of the hedge from Amy. He'd had big plans about about doing a barrel roll and then leaping to his feet in front of her, but as a familiar smell met his nose, Jake frowned, the fun disappearing from his game. Jumping up, he moved around to face Amy, her shriek of surprise matching perfectly to his, “Ames, are you _nuts_?”

“What? No-I'm not-you're nuts!” Her high, squeaky voice split the air as Amy panicked and tossed her still lit cigarette away, it landing on the top of Jake's foot, and then when he kicked it away with a hiss, in the bark dust laid thickly under the hedge, “Oh my gosh, Jake are you okay? I didn't mean to!”

“I know, I'm fine, it's cool, it's cool, but you gotta put it out Amy, I'm barefoot.”

Nodding, as a blush raced it's way up her face, Amy stomped out the cherry and lifted her shoe off of it -right in time for Kevin to peer through the gap in the hedge, saying, “Jacob, I told you-”. He stopped then, looking at the scene as Amy slammed her foot back down to cover the evidence, and then carefully inhaled through his nose, his expression going from lightly exasperated to rather severe. Uhn-uh. “Amy, is there something you would like to tell me?” Amy started swinging her hands nervously, shifting back and forth without lifting her feet, her eyes wide with a fear that Jake knew came from the idea of disappointing one of the three men she looked up to the most-Amy had lucked out in the real dad department-and before he knew what he was doing he'd opened his mouth and blurted out,

“It was my cigarette!” Then he froze, torn between thinking that was one of the dumbest things he'd ever done and one of the coolest. Amy shaking her head while making squeaky noises was totally not helping his story, at all, either, and it was like, c'mon partner, back him up here. Kevin's entirely unimpressed face, his lips tightening in a way that Jake had known wasn't good long before he kinda-sorta-maybe became Holt and Kevin's foster kid-that was the story they were going with anyway, and it felt kind of like that, which was super weird, but also kind of super cool.

“I am not Mr. Dobbin's, you are not Tom Sawyer, and your interference here is not helpful.”

“But it's the truth, entirely and completely! I _love_ to smoke now, because, because I'm a rebellious teenager, and...I want to stick it to the man?” He didn't mean for that to turn into a question, but it did, and while he didn't think Kevin believed him at all, on the plus side Jake was pretty sure he saw his lips quirk almost into a smile for just a second.

“ _Jake!_ Stop it! It's not his cigarette, Kevin, it's mine.” Amy sucked in a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and continued, “I'm the smoker. I'm so sorry.” 

“I already knew that Amy, but I do thank you for being honest. Give me the cigarettes and lighter please, and pick up the cigarette on the ground as well.” Face still guilty as anything, Amy reached into her coat and pulled out the contraband, handing it over, not quite able to look Kevin in the eye, and then bent over to pick up the half smoked one off the ground. Jake hated that she was getting in trouble, really, really hated it, but he also hated when she smoked too, and not just because when they'd been grown-ups and still able to enjoy sexy-times the smell of cigarette smoke hadn't been one of Jake's favorite things, but because it was bad for her, especially now, and he hated the thought of her maybe someday not being around, especially because of the stupid cancer sticks that had taken his Nana. “Alright, we are all going to go back inside. Jake, you will finish getting ready to go while Raymond and I talk to Amy.” Amy let out a small, plaintive, whining noise, and Kevin continued eyes focusing on Jake, “It would be wise, Young Man,” Jake _heard_ the capitals in his words, and swallowed, “for you to refrain from lying to me in the future, however chivalrous your intentions.”

Jake nodded his head up and down rapidly, “Yeah, cool, cool, cool, I can do that.”

“Then we will say no more about it. Come along.” Turning back to the house, Kevin marched off with them following, and Jake found himself thinking of a line of baby ducks and cringed a little, the part of him that he's pretty sure is more thirteen then thirty-four insisting that that was totally lame.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Ezra listened in bemusement as JD chattered all the way from the parking lot to the museum entrance, waxing extensively on the many treasures that awaited their exploration, detailing both the space exhibit and something called expedition health, that Nathan was, 'totally going to love, it's really interactive, but you'll probably know all the stuff already,' before they hit the sidewalk, Ezra exchanging a heartfelt, if affectionate, eye roll with Nathan over JD's exuberance. “And if the fossils are neat, wait until you see the mummies! They have two of them, from different time periods and the sarcophaguses are  _open._ There is this computer program that lets you digitally unwrap them too, it's really neat.” They were inside now, and JD waved them over to the member check in, pulling a card out of his pocket, “Casey and I got one of those dual memberships, so I can get me and Ezra in, and if you've got your veteran's card Nate, you're free anyway.”

Ezra and Nathan exchanged another look, a bit of devilment that most would have been surprised to find in Nathan's eyes mirrored in Ezra's, “Buying memberships together, huh? That's serious. Know what comes next, don't you?”

“What? No to whatever you're talking about.” JD shook his head, having been teased enough by Buck to not be able to miss the signs. Not that that would stop them.

“For shame, Mr. Dunne, it's wedding bells, naturally.” JD groaned and glared at both of them, shaking his head.

“You guuuuys, knock it off, I'm way too young to get married.”

“Plenty of people get married when they're still teenagers, compared to that you and Casey are plenty old. You're a good match, too.” Nathan was talking earnestly now, and wasn't affected at all by the amped up death glare that JD was giving him.

“I'm not marrying Casey! Shut up, man!” It was their turn then, the lady checking memberships looking at them a little warily, but one thing they all knew how to do was snap on their professional faces and quickly they all had their stamps and were heading in.

JD probably thought this meant they were done, but as they stepped into the museum proper, Ezra said innocently, “The wild flower field at Mr. Larabee's would be an exquisite place for the ceremony.”

JD shoved him as Ezra laughed, earning a mixture of amused and disapproving looks from their fellow patrons, and Nathan shook his head, muttering that sounded a little like, 'give me the strength' to Ezra's ears, and then, louder, “C'mon guys, quit it with the roughhousing.” Ezra gave him an innocent, blameless, smile, that he could see Nathan didn't actually buy, but then it wouldn't have been nearly as enjoyable if he did.

 


End file.
